


Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars

by MizDirected



Series: Mass Effect - Machinations Cycle [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 120,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Two of the Machinations Cycle.  Shepard and Garrus have moved to Palaven to start their new life, but old enemies have long memories and are never far behind.  If you haven't read the Machinations of Exploding Stars, that is an excellent place to start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**June 30, 2188**

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her softness in tight against him. Nuzzling her brow, his eyes slipped closed, and he used his mouth to see her. He caressed her skin, smiling at every subtle flaw, every scar. Her scent filled him as if, for those precious few moments, they became one person, the sweet spicy floral magic of her filling him. Now, after making love, the intoxicating animal scents of sweat and desire crawled through him, teasing every nerve ending with the memory of her touch.

She moved against him, stirring sleepily. He nipped her earlobe. “You can’t sleep yet.” If she fell asleep, it would break apart.

She smiled and reached up to caress his face, her fingertips trickling over him like warm, late summer rain. "Garrus?"

"Mmmm?" He slid his mouth across her shoulder, his tongue savouring the brine of her exertion even as her body still rippled like waves under his hand. His thumb drew slow arcs under her navel, making her skin lift into gooseflesh. Spirits, he loved when it did that.

"My people have a saying that when we die, our life flashes before our eyes." She leaned up on her elbow, looking into his eyes, the emerald depths flashing with hope. She was always most like a girl just after making love -- most alive. "Do you think, maybe, in that moment, we have a chance to see ahead as well as behind? Do you think it lets us see what might have been?"

He shook his head, sighing. His long talons brushed through her hair, playing with the short, silken curls. "I don't know. Maybe." He gave her a turian frown. "Might be sad ... to see all the 'what could have beens'. Let’s just forget dying, Shepard, and stay in this moment as long as we can." He closed his eyes again and brushed his lips along her cheekbone to the cool, soft tip of her nose.

"Mmm, I love it when you touch me like that," she sighed.

"Like what?" Subtle, Vakarian, but he needed Earth and all its terrible consequences to stay outside the door, far away from the warmth and comfort of the woman wrapped around him, legs and arms entwined with his.

She smiled and kissed him, dragging her bottom lip from his mouth to his nose and then his brow. "Like someone putting a piece of chocolate in their mouth and just letting it melt." She laced her fingers with his and pulled his arm around her.

His mandibles spread and fluttered hard at that. "I like that," he whispered. "An apt analogy."

"Mmmm..." She stretched long and slow, running the pad of her foot up his leg to his spur, teasing the nerve endings there. "I think it would be nice." She whispered, kissing his neck, starting near his cowl, following the hollow of his throat. She nipped him, grinning when he rumbled deep in his throat. Her tongue flicked out under his jaw, kissing and teasing.

"What would be nice, my love?" He froze, the words slipping out through the wall so carefully constructed. Damn, he always made sure not to say those things first. 

Instead of pulling away, instead of giving him that look, she smiled and curled in tight against him. "A chance to see that life, even if just for a second in that moment where everything is poised to be lost …." She paused, and he could feel her breath on his mandible as she caressed it with her lips, making her way to his mouth. She kissed him, her mouth soft, moist and warm as she whispered. "... my love."

He growled low in his throat as her tongue teased his. He pulled back a little. “Let’s just forget about that for a while. Deal?”

She leaned up, crawling up his body, low enough that her breasts pressed against him. He slid his hands up her sides, following the map of scars and freckles by memory to all the places that made her sigh and smile, that slightly wanton, hungry smile reserved only for him. Talon tips snagged on new, catastrophic scars, his eyes pressing closed tighter as he turned his head away.

She dragged her leg over him, slow and lazy, straddling his thighs. Leaning down to kiss his chin. “What’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me, Garrus?” She moved over him, teasing, then laughing bright and loud when he couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed her in his arms.

Her fingers spread then clutched his in rhythm with his hips, her head thrown back, mouth open, back arched.

He saw her so clearly projected against his closed eyelids, struck anew, in awe of her beauty, of the passion that radiated from every cell when she finally dropped her shields, letting him in. She was a goddess, and he couldn’t let her go.

She leaned down, pressing her mouth to his cheek, panting hard and lusty. She tilted her head, opening her neck to him. “Garrus? Aren’t you here with me?”

He chuckled and ran his teeth over the skin, nipping lightly, then harder as she pressed into him, moaning low and heavy, deep in her throat. Each panting breath came faster, more shallow, then she arched hard into him, turning to kiss his face. Lips like dew covered leaves teased and sucked, tongue dancing across his skin.

A jolt of electricity ripped through him, the sweet, tangy scent of Shepard’s soap, the intoxicating animal scent of her lust turning to ash. 

He forced himself to focus on the sensation of her sweat dripping onto his skin, the pulse of her muscles. If he let her, she could wrap him in a cocoon where nothing existed outside of her. The scent of blood, heavy with copper and decay, wove its way through the rest.

No. No.

He placed her hands against his chest, trying to pretend the hard ridges of knuckle and small bone remained covered with flesh. “Shepard, no, not yet. Please, not yet.” He slid his talons up her arms and across her shoulder blades, flesh and bone sharp, torn and broken under his palms. Eyes squeezed shut so hard his head began to ache, he managed to conjure the magic for another, precious moment.

For that one moment, they poured into one another. One perfect second like light glistening through a raindrop before it falls from the leaf, immortal as it spins, making love to the air before embracing the earth.

“Mmmm.” Shepard sighed, wrapping herself around him, as he turned onto his side. “God, that was... “ She chuckled. “Mmmmm. It was as perfect as I could have wished for, but I’m dead, Garrus. You know this. It’s time to let me go.”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes closed tight as he nuzzled her ear. Rumbles rolled up through his second larynx as her fingertips stroked the hollow of his pelvis and the inside of his thigh. “If we’re going to get any sleep, you need to stop doing that.”

She grinned. “Mmm, no, I'm afraid I can't do that. This is all just a dream, Garrus. Twenty four hours after this moment, I died. You can’t deny it forever, my love.”

No. No, he could deny it forever, if she’d just let him. He shook his head, the rhythm of her hand easing him toward sleep. Just as he began to doze, he heard her question play through his mind. “Why did you ask about seeing your life flash in front of your eyes, Shepard?”

She curled into him, and kissed his chin. “Because it's been beautiful.”

The perfect moment shattered, tearing him from her arms and flinging him onto the filth of that London street. Shepard threw herself to the ground, the tank flipping over her head. All Garrus could do was watch death come for him. Fire burst through the air all around him as time slowed to a perfect, horrific crawl.

Shepard grabbed him, breaking the spell as she dragged him into the shelter of the upended tank. He stared at her, stunned, blinded and deafened by the chaos. Darkness pressed in at the edges of his vision. He felt all the broken pieces, the cooling of his blood, the slowing of his heart.

“Oh god! Garrus!” Shepard reached up to her radio, screaming over the roar of Reapers and thunder of explosions. “ _Normandy_ , I need a pick up!” She glanced up at James. “You okay?”

The Marine nodded, crouched by her side, gasping. 

Sound, so much noise, pounded at Garrus’s brain, making him want to scream for them all to stop -- to stand still for one moment so he could say goodbye properly. 

_Peace, please just a little peace. Let me have this one last moment._

Garrus reached up and touched her face. “It's okay Shepard. You've got to keep going. My road has come to its end.”

“Not until I get you to safety.” She held him close, staring into his eyes, where he knew she saw the truth, but remained unwilling to acknowledge it. “We'll get you out of here. Dr. Chakwas will set you straight.”

“No.” He gave her his best smile. “No. But don't worry, it's you and me right to the end. We finish this together.”

She hugged him and bent to kiss him, then pressed her brow to his, her voice thick and harsh with tears. “You’re supposed to lay me down in the grass in that spot on Palaven and make love to me.”

He smiled, the war fading into a fog in the background, nothing mattered, nothing in existence more important than her. He touched her cheek again, his fingers leaving a blue smear through the soot and dirt. “I will. Don't worry, I will.”

“Shepard!” The world exploded in red light.

“Garrus. Easy now, love.” 

Hands touched him, but he fought them off. Then he heard a sound; a piercing cry tore at his aural canals and his heart. He knew that sound. It pushed back the curtain of war, darkness, and death, dragging him back from the terror.

“Garrus? Look at me.” A warm hand pressed to his cheek, cutting through the madness and fear. “Garrus. Come on, big guy. It was a dream. It was just a dream.”

Shepard’s face came into focus in front of his eyes.

“Shepard?” He latched onto her face, holding it between his hands, caressing it, stroking his talons through her hair, running gentle talon tips along the blue markings painted onto her pale skin. “Shepard? Dear spirits.” He pulled her into his arms, clutching her tight against his chest. “You’re okay.” He nuzzled under her ear, breathing her in. No trace of death lingered. “Thank the spirits, you’re okay.”

She wrapped her arms around him, one hand stroking his neck. “Yes, I’m fine, my love. We’re both fine. It was just a dream.” She kissed his mandible, her lips soft, moist and so warm. “Shhhh now, it was a dream.”

The crying became a shriek, harsh with shrill peaks that stabbed into his aural canals. “Shepard . . . Mercy. What’s wrong with Mercy?”

“Nothing, she’s just worried about her _pari_ , and ticked off that her _mari_ hasn’t come to pick her up yet.” Shepard eased back and kissed him. She brushed his cheekbones with her thumbs. “Are you back with me, love?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m here.” Too fast and too jerky, he nodded and stood, fleeing. “I’ll get Mercy.” He needed space, just a little space to breathe and shake it off.

“Okay.” 

Even as he circled the bed to pick up his daughter, he watched Shepard hungrily out the corner of his vision. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and cast it aside, then piled her pillows behind her with a careless ease that made his entire body hum.

The moment he leaned over her crib, Mercy stopped crying, hiccoughing a little as she recovered from her upset. Garrus smiled down at her, her sweet little stub nose and round cheeks pulling him the rest of the way out of his nightmare. He folded back her blanket then lifted her up, his hands still able to hold all of her. 

From the moment he saw her first scan, he’d felt an unbreakable conduit tie his soul to that tiny life. As she grew and then appeared in the world -- so hurt, but so strong and brave -- that bond had grown. Each time it got stronger, he thought it couldn’t possibly, until the moment Karin placed her tiny, three-week-old body in his hands, and Mercy inhabited him completely.

“Hey there, beautiful little _Praela_. Did _Pari_ wake you up? Aww, I’m sorry, baby. _Pari_ doesn’t mean to ruin your beauty sleep.” He nuzzled her cheek. She giggled so he nuzzled her again. “You are so cute, I could eat you up.” He made tasty child noises, then settled her in his arms. Beautiful, large blue eyes stared up into his. Like turian irises, Mercy’s filled her whole eye, leaving just specks of white at the corners. 

He cuddled her in against his chest. 

“Dear spirits, you stink, little girl. I can’t give you to your _mari_ smelling like this.” He sighed deeply and shook his head with affected disgust. “What kind of an impression would a lady make with such a smelly butt?” He carried her around the bed to the desk, their makeshift changing table. 

“That’s hostile. We need to talk about _Praela_ s, sweet baby girl. They’re warrior spirits, not toxic stench spirits.” He laid her down and unfastened her little jumper to get to her diaper. She just smiled up at him, giggling as his voice oscillated up and down.

“Oh this is gross, baby. If _Pari_ passes out, don’t follow him to the floor.” He glanced behind him as the musical slide of Shepard’s chuckle sent warm shivers down his spine. “Are we entertaining you?” he asked.

“Very much.” Her smiled thawed any ice that remained hidden in his dark corners. “She loves when you talk to her.”

He turned back to clean his daughter up. “Well, that’s good, because I love talking to her.” A couple of moments later, he settled Mercy into Shepard’s arms, then climbed into bed next to them. Nothing gave him more peace than to lie curled in against Shepard’s side, his head resting in the curve of her neck while his daughter nursed. 

The first time he’d walked into med bay and saw Shepard feeding their baby, he’d stopped dead and just stared. Shepard flushed a deep red across her chest and up her neck, and asked him what he was looking at.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” had been the only thought that entered his mind. 

When the three of them curled up together, he felt as though the disparate and sharp-edged pieces of his life slid together, fitting into a comforting, easy whole. Well, almost whole. He glanced over at the single piece of art left on the wall above the couch.

They’d boxed up everything that belonged to Lenka except for Jane and the portrait he’d drawn of her and Shepard. Neither one of them could bear to have reminders of the empty space stabbed into them every moment. However, neither one of them had been able to bear packing everything away either. All the asses who’d told them that Mercy would replace the loss of Lenka had no idea. As much as he adored his little _Praela_ , he loved and missed Lenka just as much.

He tucked his face in tighter against Shepard’s neck and closed his eyes.

“Tonight’s was a real whopper, wasn’t it?” she asked, her voice low and comforting. She reached up and pressed her hand against his cheek. Without waiting for an answer, Shepard turned to kiss his mandible. “Do you think getting off the _Normandy_ will help or hurt?”

He shook his head a little. “I don’t think it’s going to matter all that much, Shepard, but I hope it gets better once we’re settled in our home, our dream real around us.” Biting hard at the heels of his hope, dread hung thick and cloying, dripping between them.

“But that’s also what has you worried, huh?” She sighed and pressed tighter, sliding a wall, warm and soft and alive, between him and his fears. “You’re afraid that with the dream real around us, you’ll be more convinced that’s just what it is.”

Grunting a reply, he just let out a long breath, his arm slipping around her as he listened to the soft sounds of his daughter. A whisper-soft talon traced the deep scar that bisected his baby’s head. After all the surgeries, she still couldn’t move her left side very well, and that side of her face remained slower to react than the other. He smiled as her eyes left Shepard’s face to latch onto his. As insane as it might make him, he truly believed one of the ancient _Praela_ lived inside his child. Sometimes, when she looked into his eyes, he knew that she was telling him everything would be all right.

Mercy finished and Shepard bent down to kiss her forehead. “You go on over there and give your _pari_ a hug.” She passed their child into his arms, then climbed out of bed and headed into the washroom.

Garrus’s gaze flicked from loved feature to loved feature as he watched his wife cross the room, running what he hatefully called his terror inventory -- comparing the real woman to the one who died over and over in his dreams. Some nights, the ones she didn’t wake, he’d lean over her, just watching her breathe, running his upper mouth plate over the too sharp angle of her shoulder, the beautiful curving lines of the muscles in her arms, the soft belly that refused to go away completely after Mercy. 

Like damp soil off a _preteril’s_ spines, Garrus tried to shake off the dream. Cradling Mercy between his cowl and shoulder, he rubbed her back with his talons, chuckling as she rewarded his effort with a delicate burp, a milk bubble forming between her sharply carved lips. He smiled, mandibles flicking as, that business complete, Mercy turned to regard him with those ancient, wise eyes, then reached over with her right hand to grasp his mandible. 

“ _Te amaten_ ,” he whispered. He shifted her position so that he could nuzzle the dark red silk that covered most of her head. “You are your mother, precious girl.”

“And she’s you.” Shepard sat next to him, her knee drawn up, her foot tucked under her. “That stubborn streak has to come from somewhere.” Her smile said a great deal as she reached out to caress her daughter’s hair and then his cheek. He’d learned from her that humans spoke with their faces in the same way turians used their second larynx. The slightest muscle movement under Shepard’s creamy skin and smattered freckles could be the difference between, ‘You are such an idiot’ and “I love you, you idiot’.

Soft fingertips kissed his mandible. “Let’s put her back to bed. She’s got a big day tomorrow.”

“Palaven. A new home.” Garrus nodded and nuzzled Mercy’s cheek. “Sleep sweet, _Praela_.” He passed her into Shepard’s arms, chuckling as his mate held Mercy up, dancing her around a tiny bit as she chattered away about nonsense, mostly encouraging the baby not to spit up on her.

“Your _pari_ ’s silly, isn’t he?” Shepard asked, standing. “Laughing to himself over nothing. Yes he is, but we love him anyway, don’t we? Yes, we do.” She smiled down into the crib as she pulled up the blanket. “You’re going to be impossible to get to sleep tomorrow night without the _Normandy_ singing you its lullaby, aren’t you? Oh well, we’ll just have to get your _pari_ to sing to you instead. Good night, precious.” Shepard bent to press her lips to Mercy’s forehead, lingering over the kiss for a long moment before straightening.

Garrus frowned, his brow plates lowering toward one another as Shepard spun to face him, her stare moving over him with a heat that made his mouth dry and his plates loose. “Shepard?”

Moving with coiled tension, Shepard crossed the metre to the bedside. Pointed toes called his attention to the long, lean lines and tight muscles of his mate’s legs. Slowly swaying hips hypnotized with provocative command. Elegant, beckoning arms called him, breathless and yearning, into their embrace. 

“Sweet spirits, woman, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his heart pounding against his ribs.

She crawled to his side and knelt, loving fingertips teasing the hollow of his throat as she leaned into him, her cheek pressing against his scars. “I have a need,” she whispered, low and sultry, the siren call of a savannah wind.

He buried his face in her neck, his mandibles fluttering just a touch, his heartbeat slowing but pounding strong and sure . . . painfully, gloriously alive. “Anything I can help you with?” 

Lowering herself onto the mattress, she traced the contours of his face, her fingers leaving trails of warmth on his hide. “I sure hope so, because I need to feel my husband on top of me, and inside me.” She grinned, her eyes dropping from staring into his to focusing on his mouth, as shy as she’d been wanton the moment before. Running her lower lip between her teeth, she tilted her head a little. “And you’re the only husband I’ve got.”

He rumbled as he leaned over her, sliding his mouth along the smooth sweep of her collarbone. “I think I can accommodate you. Let me get my calendar.”

Shepard laughed, bright and sharp, her arms circling his neck to pull him into a long, deep kiss.

 

** **Te amaten** \-- [ _Turian closed dialect_ ] Literal translation: You are loved. Colloquial: I love you.


	2. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at Palaven. Priorities and changes for good or for bad?

**July 1, 2188**

Arriving on the engineering deck, Garrus strode from the elevator and made a brisk turn for waste recycling, unsurprised to meet with an empty corridor. Two hours from landfall, off-duty held no meaning. Understaffed for a frigate her size, the _Normandy_ didn’t lack for duties to keep all hands busy. He stepped through the door of waste recycling, the wall outside still labeled starboard cargo, and glanced down the narrow access between machinery. With an ironic flick of his mandibles, he grinned, imagining Diana Allers trapped, her perfectly made up face mashed against the starboard bulkhead.

_“Tonight on the Battlespace: This just in, I’ve been built into the _Normandy_ ’s trash compactor. Tonight we’ll talk with Admiral Jane Shepard to discover how she feels about this latest development. Good night and stay strong. Oh and send help . . . unless you’re a creepy, turian fan.”_

Five or six times she’d called him down to discuss the war. After his first appearance, and his suggestion that if she were appearing on vid she may want to change our of her nightclothes, each invitation surprised him a little more. Shepard’s phrase ‘beggar for punishment’ fit well.

He stepped backwards out the door, a short huff of air defying his continued defeat as his thoughts returned to his purpose. Four decks swept. Targets not acquired. Spinning on his talons, he stalked toward the port cargo bay, now water storage and reclamation. 

As he walked past the viewing area, a flash of movement in the shuttle bay below drew his attention. Stepping up to the portal, he leaned on the terminal, a sigh of both resignation and understanding blowing fog across the glass. Shepard pelted around the space between the cargo racks, sprinting between climbing a stack of crates on one side and vaulting over a series of them on the other. Judging by the sweat soaking her tank top, she’d been at it a while. The fat, rubber smacking of her trainer soles against the deck reached him even through the bulkhead.

With a compulsive urgency, Shepard spent the six months in transit grinding herself down, honing the blade so fine that he worried it might snap. Of course, Shepard didn’t snap. No one had ever looked at Shepard and thought her weak, but her newly focused body of corded, fluid steel and eyes lit by bright, keen sparks of intelligence brought to mind one word: weaponized. A missile locked on target, she allowed herself no weakness, broached no excuses, set her sights on one acceptable outcome:

Lenka’s return. 

When not working her body, Shepard worked the system -- planning, organizing, and sending out feelers. Endless hours passed as she paced back and forth in front of the QEC, tireless in her talks with Hackett, Victus, and a handful of the most powerful matriarchs on Thessia. Promises, bargains, favours, cajoling, and threats . . . the Shepard who’d chased Saren across the traverse returned. Sometimes Shepard turned to look at him, and a shudder crawled up his spine at the predatory fervour in her gaze. All the blood and heartache that tempered her through the cycles slipped away. She’d made Garrus a promise, one she intended to keep by whatever means necessary. 

Halfway through the journey to Palaven, working, solid lines of communication returned between the homeworlds, and Shepard set Liara to work planting agents on every world they could contact. Between them, they built a massive web of spiders feeling out Balak’s bases, cutting off his supplies, and shutting down his funding. 

The operation wouldn’t swing into full gear until they landed on Palaven, but she’d already stung the batarian bastard hard enough for him to swat back. The night of the failed raid on Apostle bases throughout London, Bailey and his people found Leviathan artifacts in every compound. Destroying them yielded instant results as a great many Apostles awoke to discover a year or more of their life had vanished. A week later, the Alliance headquarters in London, Geneva, Sydney and Vancouver rocked with a series of bombings. 

The casualties from those attacks just made Shepard more dogged. “I’ll take a pound of flesh for every death traced back to Balak, even if I have to resurrect him and kill him again a thousand times.”

Garrus shook off the melancholy that rode hard on the tail of Shepard’s obsession and stared down through the window, his breath pluming another burst of fog on the thick glass. In a little over two hours, he’d lose her to her cause. Not that he wouldn’t be right there with her, but . . .. Well, he’d never been very good with change.

He reached up and opened a channel to her radio. “Hey, Mrs. Vakarian, you’re sweating on the deck plating. That constitutes a safety infraction. Steve could slip and fall. We can’t afford the lawsuit.”

Shepard completed her sprint to the ramp, then turned back, jogging on the spot and looked up to grin at him. “You spying on me, Mr. Vakarian?”

“Yes, because, spirits, you’re sexy when you’re sweaty.” He chuckled, letting a heavy layer of lusty rumble bleed through. His talons ached to skate over her slick skin, obsessing over all the places her bones erupted through the softness. He cleared his throat and shook that thought off. “Even though I prefer it when I’ve made you all sweaty and wet.” He grinned and preened, pleased with himself at the grumbling moan that answered him. Standing on his toes, he craned his head to see as much of the shuttle bay as he could. “Where’s our daughter?”

“Learning how to procure supplies and repair Kodiaks.” Shepard shrugged. “Never too early, I suppose.” She waved. “Come down. We’ve got a couple of hours before we land, and we haven’t tested your reach and my flexibility in a while.”

Garrus felt his neck flush and shook his head at her teasing grin. “So . . . last night was . . . what?”

“A warm up.” She jerked her head, beckoning to him, then turned and trotted over to pull out a couple of mats. “Come on, old man. You don’t want to lose your touch, do you?”

He chuckled, watching her for another few seconds. Even from there, he could make out the ripple of her lean, corded muscles. She’d never put any weight back on after Mercy’s birth, so her spine and joints jutted sharply through her skin. His plates loosened, and he dragged his eyes away from her, not wanting to walk into the shuttle bay with an obvious issue.

“I’m waiting,” she called, dropping her voice to a register that just complicated his issues. For a second, he considered hitting the control to go up to their cabin and telling her if she wanted a workout, she’d have to come to him. Instead, he headed down to the shuttle bay, undoing the fasteners down the length of his tunic. 

“Where’s my _praela_?” he called as he stepped out of the elevator, oscillating his subvocals. Mercy’s answering giggles guided him over to the back end of the Kodiak. “There she is.” 

“Hey, Garrus,” Steve called. “She’s giving me a hand.”

Garrus grinned. “At this rate, she’s going to end up a techie like her _mari_ and _pari_.” He bent over her little reclining chair. “But I think she wants to be a musician.” After unclipping her harness, he lifted her up, nuzzling her velvet soft, dusky little cheeks. “It’s pretty cool of you to help Steve with his work when you could be wrestling with your _mari_.”

Mercy laughed and reached up, grabbing his lower mouth plate in her fist. 

“Oh no, she’s got me.” He mouthed her fingers a little. “She was saving all her skills to take me down with the ancient bottom jaw hold.” Laughing he pulled her in tight to nuzzle her again. “I surrender.” Closing his eyes, he pressed his cheek lightly against hers, savouring the soft whisper of her breath next to his aural canal, the warmth of her, the impossible silkiness of her hair.

“Vakarian, are you afraid I’m going to kick your butt?” Shepard called, a teasing smile singing through her words.

“Terrified.” He nuzzled Mercy’s cheek again and laid her down in her chair. “I’d better go, beautiful, let your mother beat up on me for a while.” He buckled her in. “You show Steve how to do . . . whatever it is he’s doing.” He pulled off his gloves and brushed his talons over her hair, then straightened and pulled off his tunic. 

“Good grief, Vakarian,” Shepard called, dancing from foot to foot on the mat. “You are getting slow in your old age.”

He threw his tunic over the console and laid his gloves on top. “You’re pretty cocky for someone who’s been laid out so many times.”

She coughed, spreading her shoulders and sticking out her elbows, bulking out all the muscles in her neck. Punching a fist into her opposite hand, she cracked her neck and made a hilariously exaggerated angry face. “Bring it on, twinkletoes. Prepare to feel the pain.”

“I haven’t seen you outside of bed for three days . . ..” He threw a left-handed blow, drawing her defenses away from the right side of her body, then spun and landed a solid kick, knocking her back. “. . . and this is how you choose to spend what little time we have. Smack talking . . . badly, by the way . . . and throwing one another around in the cargo bay.” He cocked a brow plate.

Shepard laughed and ducked under his blow, flowing through a loose somersault into a crouch, her right leg sweeping around to take out his legs. “Come on,” she teased, “you haven’t had to babysit your crazy wife for five months or so. It’s got to be a relief to have some time to yourself.”

Garrus hopped over her leg, landing slightly off balance. In the fraction of a second it took to recover, Shepard barreled into him, throwing him onto his back. She straddled his waist, her hands on his shoulders, and smiled down into his eyes.

Instead of striking back, Garrus let out a long breath and sank into the mat.

“What?” Shepard asked, brow knitting into lines of concern. “What’s wrong, Garrus? Just not into sparring today? You don’t have to. You get carte blanche to say no to the admiral.” She leaned down, her forearms crossed over his keel. “Are you worried about what happens once we arrive?”

Sitting up, he crossed his legs, leaving her on his lap. “It hasn’t been a relief, Shepard.” He stared into her eyes. “Yes, I’m glad you’re rediscovering your drive and strength, but it’s been lonely.” Chuckling, he tried to strip the edge off his words, but he pulled it off about as gracefully as an elcor gymnast. 

She laid both hands inside the front of his cowl. “Lonely?” Letting out a heavy, almost exasperated sigh, she leaned forward, resting her brow against his scars. “I’ve been obsessed. Didn’t see it. Why haven’t you said anything, Garrus?”

Bobbing his head in a slight shrug, he leaned back, bracing his hands against the mat. “We’re going to be apart most of the time once we arrive, Shepard. I need to get used to the fact that you’re not going to be there whenever I want to see you, or touch you.” He ran his talons through her hair, brushing the sweaty strands from her forehead. “I’m worried that the time we do get together will be eaten up by vid calls, messages, and extranet searches, with charts, maps, and tactical plans. All the things that you’ve buried yourself in since we left Earth.”

Soft fingers skated along his mandible, barely warming the hide as they passed over it. “Okay.” Her voice drifted out, just audible and as gentle as her touch. “When we see what our schedules are, we make sure we have a good block of time each day that’s just for the three of us. I’ll give more of the maintenance-type tasks to Liara.” She leaned into him, resting her body against his as she kissed him. “Okay?” 

She let out another of the deep sighs. “If you need something from me, you need to tell me, Garrus. Especially now.” She shook her head. “You know how I am when I get focused on something. I’ll try, but I’m going to fail now and again unless you’re there to pull me back.” Soft kisses trailed along his mandible. “I’ll try my best to do better.”

He sat up, wrapping her in his arms. “I’ve been damned lucky these past couple of cycles, and a big part of me doesn’t want to leave this ship, Shepard. My life did an about face for the better when I came aboard her.” He lifted her off his lap and stood, not giving her time to react. “Come on, we just have time for a shower.” Wrapping his hand around her slender fingers, he led the way to the elevator. 

Shepard squeezed his hand before letting go to get Mercy, tossing his tunic and gloves to him as she passed the console. He shrugged into the tunic and hit the elevator control, watching his mate joking with Steve. 

Guilt boiled down deep in his guts. His children deserved a home, friends their own age, a settled existence. They deserved to find favourite places to hide away from everyone to read and watch the sky. They deserved everything he had growing up, well, with the addition of a loving, present father. He wanted them to have all that and so much more, but still . . . he felt like an agoraphobic being dragged kicking and screaming out under the impossibly huge and terrifying sky. 

Shepard walked up, Mercy held in one arm, the chair thing in the other. Her smile felt like sunshine on his face as she leaned up to kiss him. “Come on, handsome. Onward and upward.”

“Onward and upward.” 

He never had been very good with change.

 

Less than an hour later, the _Normandy_ glided into dock.

“Wow.” Shepard whistled. “They’ve been working their butts off. Look at this place.”

“Arriving in style this time, Admiral,” Joker agreed.

Garrus stared out the ports at the massive glass, steel, and concrete structure. He’d helped organize the project from the _Normandy_ , he and Victus working out most of the construction details over the QEC, but still, the finished product overwhelmed him. A giant crescent, it wrapped around nearly a thousand acres of docks and warehouses along the edge of the new academy grounds.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Kaidan said, a low whistle following his words.

“Palaven is going to be a galactic hub for the next decade, perhaps even longer, depending on how quickly the Citadel is rebuilt,” Sparatus said from the doorway. “It’s fitting to make a magnificent first impression on visitors.”

Shepard jumped and turned to face the councillor. Garrus covered a chuckle as she recovered from the start and smiled. Despite five months together inside a small metal tube, Shepard still jumped every time Sparatus entered the room. “Glad to be home, sir?” she asked.

He nodded, just a slight tremor. “It’s been too long. One loses his priorities too long away from the land he came from.”

Garrus almost asked if the councillor had family waiting, but, like Shepard, he found it nearly impossible to just talk to Sparatus despite his recent support. Too much bad blood over too long for any real trust to develop, he supposed. Perhaps in time.

“Well,” Shepard called, “enough staring. Let’s go.” She pushed through the small crowd, striding down the length of the CIC with just enough stiffness in her spine for Garrus to know that she felt nearly as terrified as he did. 

“Why did we decide to jump off cliffs so high?” he whispered as they stepped into the elevator.

Shepard chuckled, her shoulders dropping a little. “It wouldn’t be us if we weren’t scrambling to throw together a parachute on the way down.”

He slipped a hand down her spine, feeling her relax under his touch. “Yeah. We may want to rethink that strategy some day soon.”

They picked Mercy up in med bay, Shepard tucking their daughter into a wrap that cradled her snugly against her mother’s heart. Shepard paused at the elevator, her hand over the control to send them down to the shuttle bay, but not pressing it.

Garrus put his arm around her waist and held her tight against his side. “Onward and upward.”

She nodded and hit the control.

Before they even reached the end of the _Normandy_ ’s ramp, Gira hurried from the terminal, ignoring the dock workers who tried to keep her back. She waved, grinning wide and happy as she ran up to Shepard, trying to hug her and look at the baby all at the same time.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Shepard said, her voice tight, tears making her eyes glassy as she hugged the elder female. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you. Since Rossus passed, your vid calls have been such a comfort, but there’s no substitute for face to face.” She clasped Garrus’s elbows and touched brows. “Welcome home, Garrus.” She embraced Herros and Sol, then rubbed her talons together. “All right, that’s enough of that. Pass her over.”

Shepard laughed. “That’s how it’s going to be now, Garrus. Everywhere we go, it’s going to be. Nice to see you. Now, where’s the baby?” She extricated Mercy from her wrap and placed her in Gira’s arms. 

Garrus wondered how Mercy would react to a complete stranger, but his _praela_ just stared up at Gira with those wise, blue eyes, then reached up to grab the female’s mandible.

“Hierarch Vakarian?

Garrus nodded and looked up. A turian in a uniform stood at the end of the ramp, a datapad in hand.

“Cipritine Docking Authority. You’re registered as the vessel’s XO? Permission to come aboard and make arrangements for cargo inspection?”

“Certainly.” Garrus waved him up. “I’ll get you together with our procurement and supplies officer.” He led the way back up to the top of the ramp. “Lt. Cortez?”

“What in sweet spirits is this?” a dual-toned voice called over the noise of the docks. 

Garrus alerted to the aggression in the tone and spun around.

A turian in construction gear strode over, pushing in on Shepard, reaching up to rub a rough thumb against the marking over Shepard’s nose and cheekbones. “You think you’re turian, pink meat sack?” He looked down at Mercy. “You trying to make your whelp turian too?” He jerked back when he saw Mercy’s face. “What in buratrum is that?”

Garrus broke away from his discussion with the port authority and ran down the ramp, but before he even got close, Shepard passed Mercy back to Gira. Spinning around, she took the turian worker down with two lightning punches to the lower gut.

“You dare touch me -- manhandle me -- without my permission? You dare come near my child?” She waited for him to stagger to his feet, then shoved one thumb under his chin plate, lifting him onto his talon tips. “You make a mistake like coming near my child again, you’ll find out just how much damage a pink meat sack can do in under fifteen seconds. Is that understood?” He danced a little, struggling to hold his balance, his talons grabbing her forearm. 

Garrus stepped up beside her, watching Shepard’s face. Still and silent, even her chest barely moving, suddenly Garrus knew exactly what Victus saw when he looked at Jane. A _praela_ stood before him, as scorching and airless as the shimmer off a midday desert.

“Shepard?” He took another step, uncertain whether the woman most known for compassion in the face of violence would press that tiny bit harder and kill an unarmed worker. She tilted her head, gaze steady on the worker’s but closed, giving nothing away as the seconds dragged on and the docks held their breath.

“Jane.” Adrien Victus strode out of the terminal, a squad of guards on his heels. “Sorry, Admiral Shepard, we should have been here early, had security in place.”

Shepard held the turian worker on his toes, but then the winds scattered the heat, and she smiled at the primarch. “Hey, Adrien, it’s good to see you.” She looked around the docks, at all the people staring. “It’s okay, I think this little demonstration has made a much more effective statement than a squad of security.” 

Victus chuckled and nodded, laying a companionable hand on her shoulder. “People never remember the ‘deadliest woman in the galaxy’ part.” He looked over at Garrus, a warm smile accompanying a nod. “Hierarch Vakarian, welcome home.”

“Thank you, Primarch. It’s good to be home.” Garrus watched the worker’s eyes as the magnitude of his mistake registered. It would have been amusing but for the moment of certainty he’d felt that Shepard would pinch the artery and kill.

Shepard let her prisoner down to stand flat-footed and stared into his eyes. “Let’s get introduced in a more civil way, shall we?” She smiled, but it didn’t manage to spread past the curve of her lips. “My name is Admiral Jane Shepard, that very angry looking turian right there . . ..” She nodded toward Garrus. “. . . is my bond-mate, and that beautiful little girl is our baby.”

The smile bled away as Garrus stepped up beside her. “If you come within ten metres of me or my family again, I won’t just put you down with a cheap shot to your sensitive bits, I’ll remove them. If my bond-mate is with me, you won’t need to worry about those pesky little bits of your anatomy ever again. He’s crankier than I am.” This time her smile lit up her face with a mania that had terrified Garrus a long time ago, in another life.

The worker swallowed hard, but said nothing, his death-watch gaze riveted to Shepard.

She released him then wiped her fingers on her trouser leg. Two breaths, and that calm, searing deadliness dropped away, his wife turning to Victus with a huge smile, wrapping her arms around her friend in a heartfelt hug. 

Garrus let out a long breath and shook his head. It had all just been crazy Shepard. Hiding a wry smile, he realized that he’d missed her. The last time crazy Shepard came out to play, she nearly broke her forehead open on Gatatog Uvenk’s head casing. Shepard looked like she had a horn for the better part of two weeks after Grunt’s rite.

“You are looking so good,” Shepard said. After a moment, they walked over to Gira, their conversation moving on to how adorable, intelligent, and talented Mercy was. 

If it hadn’t been for the worker glaring at Shepard’s back as though he wished he carried a gun, Garrus would have dismissed the entire incident. The worker straightened, hate-filled eyes looking to Garrus.

“You mate with a human and call yourself fit to lead your people?” He spat at Garrus’s feet and spun away, just to smack face first into a wall of pink armour.

“You don’t want to do that again, daisy.” A tough, gravelly voice rumbled over them like thunder. The krogan gave the worker a little shove, then strode over to Garrus and offered his hand.

“Ravenor Barl,” Garrus gripped the battlemaster’s wrist. “I hear you volunteered for our family’s protection service.” He gestured toward the terminal, inviting the krogan to join him as he followed the others.

“Someone has to look after you and your mate. Figured since I have some practice at it anyway, I might as well put it to good use.” Barl laughed, a sharp varren bark of sound. “Besides, saves me having to go back to Tuchanka and fulfil all the breeding contracts my fat aunt arranged the moment you lot cured the genophage.” He shuddered. “If it were up to her, my equipment would fall off siring the half of Tuchanka that Urdnot Wrex hasn’t.”

Garrus gave him an awkward smile and nodded. “Well, we’re glad to have you.”

They moved to the shuttle without incident, the workers and passengers backing away both in deference to the Primarch’s presence and fear of his rather ominous companion. Shepard sat between Gira, who held Mercy, and Victus.

The second the door shut, Shepard turned to face the Primarch. “Did you hear from the port authorities on Sur’kesh? Did they find anything in their searches?”

The Primarch shook his head and placed a hand on her arm. “Sorry, Shepard, but no. They found no sign that Lenka had ever been aboard any of the ships.”

Shepard sighed and nodded, deflating a little. After a moment, Garrus saw her shake it off. “You got initial scouting reports on those locations we alerted on?” Mercy began to cry, so Shepard turned to accept her back from Gira. She kissed the baby’s face, making slurpy noises until she laughed, and nestled her back inside her wrap. As soon as Mercy settled, Shepard looked back to Victus. 

He nodded. “Yes, and we can have raids ready to go within a couple of days. We should give things a few days to settle, let them find somewhere and relax in.”

“And the docking authority searches here? All the ships are being searched prior to deboarding?” 

Garrus let out a long breath. He wanted Lenka back more than anything. He just wished he didn’t feel as though it would cost him his mate to retrieve his daughter.


	3. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month on Palaven, no Lenka. Shepard tries to deal with the two halves of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience as Shepard and I wrassled her inner demons. Hope the coming chapters make the wait well worth it. *loves to all*
> 
> **Torin --** A male turian of the age of majority. Like human 'man'.
> 
> **Tarin --** A female turian of the age of majority. Like human 'woman'.
> 
> **Domin --** House but in the sense of it being a home.

**July 28, 2188**

_Don’t look into their eyes._

_Keep moving._

Shepard flew through the base, a guided missile; numb and focused as she shoved past the beatific Apostles. Despite doing her best to ignore Balak’s thralls, their beatitude closed a clammy fist around her that set slugs crawling under her skin . . . and a thin, molten wire of envy burrowing through her guts. What wouldn’t she give for even a single moment of pure, blissfully ignorant happiness? 

She shoved the covetous whispers into a dusty back corner of her mind, fixating on rooting out the Leviathan artifacts and blowing them, and their lies, to hell. False happiness and purpose amounted to an ash-pile of lies, and lies only caused pain. The raids, destroying the artifacts, saved the awakened from that pain. 

_Then why do their faces always look like I’ve torn the sun from their sky when they awake?_

Salvation often came hard and painful. No one knew that better than Shepard.

“Why?” One of the awakened shoved her face into Shepard’s, a blur of sorrow and rage. “Why would you steal our light and hope just to imprison us back in this?” She held her hands out, stabbing them out at what remained of her planet. “What sort of monster rips people from paradise just to throw them back into hell?”

Shepard wrenched herself away, pushing through the living quarters, each step faster than the one before. Bulldozing her way past the believers offering comfort and the awakened demanding answers, she sank hook-like claws into the rightness of her mission, clinging to it with desperate gravity. Gaze unable to rest anywhere without doubt staring back at her, she drove herself harder and faster, always moving faster, willing the endless sea of faces behind a soup-thick fog of denial.

Guided missile; get the job done. Destroy the artifacts, wake up the sleepers, make it too painful for Balak to keep Lenka: a good, solid plan. A plan anchored in doing the right thing for everyone. She was Jane Shepard; she did the right thing, no matter the cost.

_Only one bloody snag in your perfect, righteous plan, Shepard._

Try as she might to pass by the children, keeping her burning eyes focused on the opposite wall -- she knew Lenka was not among them -- she stopped to look into the face of each and every one. Turian eyes looked back -- frightened, curious, angry, heartbroken . . . but always turian. Each set broke her heart anew, each feeding the black hole that growled and snapped at the center of her.

_None of them are Lenka. They’re all turian. Don’t torture yourself._

She used the children to whip herself onward. Surely, if salvation lay anywhere, it lay in pushing forward, remaining in perpetual motion, focusing on the mission: destroy artifacts, seize assets, get Lenka back. Destroy artifacts, seize assets, get Lenka back. Looking into the children’s eyes paved a road that dropped into the abyss -- the deep, dark hole at her core -- and yet hope kept her dancing along its event horizon. God-damned hope wrestled aside reason and self-preservation, even sanity, forcing her to stare into each and every face, hoping for four, black eyes, suffering a small death every time only two stared back. 

After the first couple of raids, Garrus tried to convince her to stay behind, to keep in contact with the ops via radio. 

“You don’t need to go, Shepard. Please, stop torturing yourself.” He tried to shelter her, to build walls of warmth and love around her, to wrap her in comfort. 

She didn’t deserve it. She’d broken all of her promises.

_“I’m never letting you go.” A soft sigh chased the words from Shepard’s mouth._

_“Never?” Lenka giggled._

_“Never ever.” She leaned in to kiss the child’s cheek, inhaling the clean, soapy scent of her. “I luv yah,” she whispered. “And you’ll never have to be afraid again, because I’m never going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”_

_Lenka kissed her back. “I luv yah.”_

Shepard gave her head a sharp, hard shake. She needed to go, to be the one to look into every cranny and search every set of eyes. If she didn’t, doubt would drive her mad. If her mate’s mandibles dropped and his back bowed a little further every time she demolished his fortifications of love and threw off his comfort . . .. 

Destroy artifacts, seize assets, get Lenka back. The universe would tilt back onto its axis, and she’d make it up to him. Then she’d deserve to return to the warmth.

_It’s ego, you know? This idea that only you can make sure it’s all done right is pure ego. It’s arrogance, an arrogance that cost you Lenka and nearly cost you Mercy. What else will it cost you before it’s all said and done?_

She finished sweeping the basement level and ran up a fight of concrete stairs, taking two at a time. A bitter nettle laugh crumbled to dust as it left her lips. Either option, going along or staying behind left her sinking into the darkness in the end.

She found the second artifact in a small alcove on the first floor. Five bullets blew it to hell and more sleepers awoke.

“Where are we? What have you done? Why? What do we do now? Where do we go? Why? Why did you destroy everything?”

Shepard bullied her way through the growing, desperate, terrified throng, leaving it to the rest of the team to deal with them. Destroy artifacts, seize assets, get Lenka back. She was Jane Shepard. She did what was right, no matter the cost.

Going along or staying behind: unless she found Lenka and soon, everything ended in a darkness so terrible she couldn’t force herself to look at it. Even after months of searching, she’d found no way to reconcile the two halves of her life. As Garrus and Mercy wrapped her in warmth and love, the other half screamed, tearing her apart with the wordless shrieks of a child in pain. 

No, that was a lie. Every part of her dwelt in fear and anger, drowning in a hatred so deep she felt raped by it. When she held her baby, yes, love filled and warmed her -- beautiful, sunshine-bright love as deep and broad as all creation poured into her until she felt as though she’d explode with it -- but quills of resentment worked their way in, barbs burrowing into her soul until their poison infected everything. The love wanted her to forget the fear and uncertainty. It wanted her to turn her back on the part of her tied to Lenka . . . to just be happy. How could she not hate it?

Third floor. Another artifact. More eyes stared into her, demanding and pleading, but she flung them back, shouldering through them, faster and harder with each step. She needed to get out. The place choked her, pressing in on her with yet another failure until her pulse felt as though it would explode out her throat and temples, spraying everything in thick, toxic icor. Surely no one with so much hatred inside them could claim blood still flowed through their veins.

The raid resulted in four destroyed artifacts, one hundred and twenty four awakened Apostles, and information leading to four bank or investment accounts. 

As soon as she checked the last corner of the last room, Shepard spun and fled, running down through the structure, her last reserves of control drying up. Anything in her way met with a forearm or shoulder, shoved aside and left where it -- 

they 

\-- fell. 

Shepard burst out the door into near dark and hit the environmental controls on her armour, dropping the temperature a couple more degrees. She flipped open the visor, breaking the sealed in claustrophobia like cracking open a tomb. Gasping, she stumbled into the nearest wall, her armour crunching musically against the concrete. 

A breeze curled through her hair and whispered across her cheeks, cooling her skin and easing the black panic enough for her to stand. She pushed away from the wall and wandered into the darkness. The shuttle settled to ground twenty metres away, so she stumbled that direction, sliding a finger into the rigid collar of her armour, tugging at it.

She couldn’t remain inside the base after the initial sweep: too many Apostles, all of their madness focused on her. The awakened stabbed her with stiletto-sharp accusations and questions, while the true believers bludgeoned her with adulation. After the first raid, being torn back and forth between their rage and their fawning drove her to the point where she’d buried her fist in a young _torin’s_ face. Months of terrified impotency and resentment exploded in glorious release, and for a moment, as she laughed hysterical and thready, she knew peace. 

The next second, terror and horror evicted the sadistic pleasure, and her laughter turned to retching. Her stomach heaved until she collapsed, her body trying to purge a darkness that refused to be displaced so easily. In the end, Garrus picked her up off the ground and carried her to the shuttle while she shook so hard her teeth chattered. 

Looking up, she saw that she’d missed the shuttle and turned back. “This is never who I was,” she whispered into the darkness. “Daddy? God? Anyone? This is not who I am.”

“How’re you doing, Missus?” a rough voice called from the door.

Shepard jumped a little, then turned to face the massive figure blocking the light from the doorway. Blinking slowly, she nodded, just a single dip of her head, grateful to the krogan for dragging her out of her self-pitying quagmire. “Fine, Barl. Go back in, and help Garrus get things wrapped up. It’s getting late.”

The krogan battlemaster chuckled, a low rumble like an engine. “Work day tomorrow. Does he have a curfew?”

Shepard let out an acerbic grunt. “You’re about to get one, buttercup.”

His laugh thundered out the door as he lumbered back inside. 

A glimmer of light out in the rubble captured her attention. It flickered on the upslope toward the eastern residential district then disappeared. Something whispered in the back of her head, telling her that a shadow hid behind the innocuous flash. It pulled her into the detritus to get a better angle, insisting she investigate. Shrugging her Mattock into her hands, she used its scope to zoom in. Still nothing.

She shouldered her rifle, sitting on a broken chunk of wall so she could keep an eye on the light’s origin, and lifted a foot to rest on a girder. Using her omnitool, she opened a channel to Gira’s home.

“Jane.” The _tarin_ smiled. “Just checking in?”

“Yeah, we’re just about done here.” She dropped her gaze to the small screen and tried to smooth the folds between her eyebrows. “How’s the biscuit doing?” 

Gira disappeared for a moment, reappearing with Mercy cradled in her arms. The baby yawned and stuffed a hand into her mouth. “She’s fine. Drank her bottle, and I’m pretty sure I got a couple of spoonfuls of the porridge and fruit into her.” Gira chuckled. “As a side note, we both look wonderful in purple.”

A worn smile stretched Shepard’s lips. “Yeah, she wears her rice and fruit well.” She kissed her fingers and touched them to the baby’s cheek. “We’ll be back within the hour, I’d imagine. Thanks, Gira.”

“See you soon. I’ll make sure there’s a pot of tea.” The _tarin_ lifted a hand, then looked down, already talking to the baby.

“Thanks.” Shepard’s lips thinned again, and she closed the channel. 

She lifted her other foot up onto the girder and rested her folded arms on her knees, eyes scanning the rubble once more. The flash could have been anything: a predator’s eyes glancing her way, someone moving a light inside that happened to catch glass, even someone moving down in the settlement. She nodded. It could have been, and yet, she felt someone out there, watching.

“Shepard.” Garrus stepped out the door and strode over to her. “We’re just about done in there. Same as the other bases, most of the awakened have no where else to go, so are staying until they can find something.” He looked over toward the rubble, following her stare. “What is it?”

She stood slowly. “I saw something over there, a flash of light. It might have been nothing, but my gut says scope.”

He shrugged his Mantis into his hands and lifted it to his eye. “I don’t see . . ..”

Shepard caught the firefly blink in the rubble even before she heard the terrible axe-crack of a bullet splitting the air like dry maple. She slammed into Garrus, driving him to the ground. Chunks of rubble scored a symphony of bruises up her right side. Shoving aside Garrus’s pained grunt and her body’s own complaints, she leaped to her feet. Pulling her Mattock, she sprinted into the dark, weaving around and hurdling refuse. A shadow moved in the dark, and she opened fire, the metallic clatter of her assault rifle backed up by the harsh cough of a shotgun. The shadow stumbled.

A bellow roared up the slope after her, “Be careful, Missus!” The thunder of running krogan chased after her. 

Slowing to walk the last few metres, Shepard saw a male turian draped over a chunk of concrete. He shifted and groaned, a hand scrabbling in the grime, trying to locate his weapon. Shepard swung her Mattock, spinning the gun in her hand to smash the butt into the shooter’s arm. The black hole inside her howled with glee as the turian bellowed. 

The shooter rolled over, flopping onto his back. He stared up at her, eyes wide with hatred and no small amount of fear. Shepard raised the Mattock above her head, her jaw set and teeth clenched. The impact of the impending blow crooned to the bones in her arms; the hollow, smashed-coconut sound his head would make sang in her ears. Her every muscle poised, the black hole purred with anticipation, promising so much pleasure, so much peace in its seductive whisper.

“He’s dead,” Barl said from behind her. A strong hand plucked the Mattock from her numb fingers. Arms still raised, she stared down into eyes that watched the sky but no longer saw it. 

Her arms dropped, every bone and muscle fiber turning to water. She stumbled forward as Barl holstered her Mattock none too gently. Her knees almost gave out, but that jolt shattered the last of the dissociation, settling herself back into her skin.

“Got a bit of the blood rage in you, don’t you, Missus?” he asked, his warm rumble assuring her he knew how the whispers sang to her in that moment.

She turned to face the krogan. As surely as if someone else had taken over her body, the rage and seductive call of violence dissipated.

Garrus.

Shaking herself, she looked up and called out into the night, “Garrus?” Her blood froze, every molecule in her reaching out, straining for an answer, yet she couldn’t force herself to take a step toward him. What if she hadn’t moved quickly enough?

“I’m okay. He just winged me.” In the wedge of gold spilling across the ground from the base door, she saw her husband stand and brush himself off. She let out a shuddering breath.

“Well, damn. The Apostles have never carried guns.” Barl turned to look over the destruction. “Too many damned places for snipers to hide in this city if they’re going to start shooting at us.”

“Go cover Garrus, and get some bodies up here to process the area.” Shepard crouched at the dead shooter’s side. She scanned the _torin’s_ famila notas with her omnitool, then turned to his clothing. Inside his pockets she found a small holo of a female and child. No ID or currency. He carried the only thing to his death that mattered to him, which meant that he’d come knowing how close that spectre loomed over his shoulder.

Garrus walked up through the rubble to join her. “He could have been aiming for either one of us, Shepard. Probably TPR, or hired by them.” When he reached her side, he looked down and shook his head, a single drop of blood shaking loose to sail through the air, splashing just under Shepard’s eye. 

She jumped up, flinging the chill splatter from her skin with a flick of her hand. Too many times she’d worn her husband’s blood on her skin. Never again. 

A reassuring hand weighed down her shoulder. “Come on, let’s send his body and gear to be analyzed and get home.”

She looked into Garrus’s eyes, her eyebrows collapsing into a sad and tired frown, her gaze turning to the blue-black line shining on her glove. As grateful as she was to him for trying to deflect, she was certain of the gunman’s target. 

Shepard reached up, her hand brushing his cheek, her voice low and grave when she spoke. “He could have been after either one of us, but he wasn’t. I sat out here for ten minutes without him twitching a muscle. He didn’t fire until you came out.” 

Looking out over the valley, she shuddered. The city gave her chills, like a mouse in a maze filled with snakes, unable to see what was coming around the next corner. 

She pushed down the uneasiness and nodded, reaching out to press her hand to his chest. “You’re right, though. Let’s get back to the house.” She set out ahead of him, knowing that he would return to the base to assign people to ensuring the shooter and scene were taken care of. 

None of that mattered. The shooter had gone in without ID, sacrificing himself for something. Revenge? Hope of a better future for a family left behind? All that mattered was that his rifle had been aimed at her husband. TPR. The pack of cowardly bastards. Not an ounce of honour amongst them. Not if they came at her babies and her mate instead of striking at her directly.

She popped the hatch on the shuttle and sat, leaning against the far side, her head resting against the cool metal. Her eyes closed, each eyelid feeling lined with sandpaper and weighed down with boulders. She dozed as she waited, drifting in and out of a clammy, liminal fog. When Garrus sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, she roused enough to shift, resting her head in the curve between his cowl and pauldron, before fading back out.

The forest spread before her, her heart dropping into the leaf litter when she saw the familiar, endless trunks. “Come on. Damn it, Balak. I thought we were past this crap. You can send me a message through the FTL comm routes.”

Shadows darted through the trees, moving so quickly that they kicked up dirt and leaves in their wake. She allowed them to race around her peripherals without reacting to them, waiting for Balak to make his game clear.

“Shepard?” Garrus’s voice echoed from a distance. “Shepard! Where are you?”

A thunderous report sliced through the dead air. She looked up, expecting lightning, but no. No, the sound cracked too sharp for thunder. A rifle.

“Garrus?” She screamed so loud her voice cut out, rasping through her lips.

She spun, trying to discern the direction of the shot, the echo coming from too many directions. “Garrus? Where are you?” Straining to hear even the slightest sound, Shepard felt as though she’d gone deaf. Not even her feet made noise as they shuffled in the leaf litter, ready to run at the slightest hint.

_Please, let me find him. He can’t be here alone. They’ll tear him to pieces. ___

__At last, a faint groan opened a path, and she leaped into a sprint, plunging over undergrowth and roots, dodging tree trunks. Heartbeat frantic, pulse pounding too loud in her ears to hear over, she searched._ _

__Sliding to a stop, going down on one hip as her boot slid in the damp compost under the leaves, Shepard bounced back up, lungs heaving. Holding her breath, she spun first one direction, then another, not sure if she could even hear him over the drum chorus banging inside her head._ _

__“Garrus?”_ _

__“Mommy!”_ _

__“Lenka?” Whirling, Shepard pinwheeled her arms, nearly tipping onto her face before she caught her balance. “Lenka? Where are you, sweetie?”_ _

__A shriek rose shrill and terrified over the silence, the terror in the scream slicing Shepard open from head to foot. “Mommy! Help me.”_ _

__Glancing back at her previous path, Shepard bounced on the balls of her feet, weight shifting one way then the other before she took off toward Lenka’s scream._ _

__“Keep calling me, baby.” She breathed a silent prayer for Garrus, a tether forming between them as she left him behind. Every step she took pulled the line tighter, until she could no longer run. Leaning forward, she pulled with all her strength, her boots digging trenches in the earth as she fought to reach her daughter._ _

__“Lenka?” She stopped, her wind broken, lungs burning. Choking on the air -- it tasted and smelled like acid -- she covered her mouth only to find her hand covered in blood when she pulled it back. “Lenka?” Another choking fit followed her cry. When it eased, she listened._ _

__“Shepard.”_ _

__She spun back the way she’d come at the weak tremor on the breeze. “Garrus?”_ _

__The angry, air raid siren squall of a baby crying rose above the sighing of the forest, its pitch alone, sending Shepard racing in a third direction. As she took her first step, a tight cord snapped into being, tethering her to Lenka. It held so tight that she only managed a couple of steps before she couldn’t move. Struggling, she turned back to Lenka, but a third shackle formed, tying her to Mercy’s cry._ _

__Bringing all of her strength to bear, Shepard fought to get free, hands ripping at the tethers, but unable to break any of them. No matter what direction she moved, the other two tightened until they threatened to yank her into three pieces._ _

__“Balak! What is this, Balak? Let me go. This is insane. You can’t just keep torturing me!”_ _

__Her heart fell, knowing that he very well could. He could break her into endless pieces, and then still grind her into sand until nothing remained but a shell that couldn’t remember what light or love used to mean._ _

__“Mommy! Mommy, please. Help me!” The scream rose to shrill, whimpering sobs._ _

__Shepard threw herself against her bindings. “I’m trying baby. I’m coming.”_ _

__With a mind-shattering snap, the tether holding her to Lenka broke, throwing Shepard face-first into the dirt, the child’s screams cutting off as though someone had slammed a door between them._ _

__Shepard scrambled up, the other two cords pulling tighter, dragging her over the forest floor until they held her immobile between them once more. “Lenka!” Her throat tightened, her screams coming out shrill and choked with tears. “Lenka! No! Please, baby, answer me.”_ _

__“Which one next, Shepard?” a voice asked, deeper and more terrible than Balak’s. “Which one next?”_ _

__Shepard jumped up, stumbling forward into the bulkhead, her scream still echoing off the inside of the shuttle._ _

__“Shepard?”_ _

__She spun toward the warm voice, her hands reaching out, scrabbling against the cool metal as she tried to keep her balance. “Garrus?” She tried to take a step, but her knee gave out then snap-locked._ _

__He slid forward on his seat and held out both hands, one closing around her closest hand, the other supporting her waist. “It was a dream, Shepard.” He tugged her back over and eased her into her seat, pulling her tight against his side. Turning into her, he wrapped both arms around her and rested his brow on the top of her head._ _

__Breathing shallow and faint, her mind reeling, Shepard nodded a little. “A dream.” She closed her eyes and inhaled, using the familiar spicy cloves, gun oil, and polymer scent of him to pull her the rest of the way out into the real world._ _

___“Which one next, Shepard?”_ that voice whispered through her thoughts. _“You know which one is next, don’t you? The target is already painted.”__ _

__Pressing her brow in against the warm, rough hide of his neck, she felt the slow, solid pulse of his heart pounding against her temple and bit her teeth down on her bottom lip to keep it from shaking. Eyes burning with molten tears, she forced the bellows of her diaphragm to remained steady, wrestling down the hitching spasms that tried to throw her into sobbing._ _

___Just a dream. ____ _

____Except, of course it wasn’t. Lenka was gone, and hungry-snake tendrils of orange smoke wound around Garrus wherever he went. Long, barbed skewers pierced her stomach, pressing down through the rest of her guts, the pain sharp enough that she had to clench her teeth to keep from moaning._ _ _ _

____His voice a gentle caress, Garrus said, “We’re back at the house, Shepard.” Despite his words, he didn’t loosen his grip on her, content to hold her until she broke the contact, which she did, abruptly jumping to her feet._ _ _ _

____Shepard winced as her elbow smacked into his jaw, but she didn’t pause, just said, “Yeah, let’s go.” She strode to the shuttle hatch, flinging it up, and leaping down, but she only made it to the edge of the patch of tarmac before she stalled._ _ _ _

____Garrus bypassed her, his hurt and confusion billowing around him, the pale ghosts of all his hopes manifesting to remind her of her failings._ _ _ _

____“I think we were wrong, Garrus.” She lined her toes up with the edge of the parking space, not allowing the soles of her boots to touch the living turf. “You were right before the last battle. We should have retired somewhere a long way from all of this.”_ _ _ _

____He stopped with his hand on the door control, not turning to face her. “So, we should what? Tell everyone, ‘sorry, but now that we’ve seen how badly we’re needed, we’ve decided to slink off into retirement somewhere’?”_ _ _ _

____Shoulders rising and falling, letting his sarcasm roll off, Shepard tilted her head and shrugged. “What’s so wrong with living quietly somewhere and just raising our kids?”_ _ _ _

____He spun, his talons digging divots out of the lawn, halving the distance between them in a stride. “You know that we’ll never find a place where the galaxy won’t follow us. That’s what we signed on for. You went into the war and made the choices you made knowing that the consequences would follow you.” His brow plates shot up as if something just occurred to him. “You knew that, didn’t you?”_ _ _ _

____She sniffed in a harsh breath and looked to her left, avoiding his stare. “Did you?”_ _ _ _

____He closed the rest of distance in another stride. “Yes, Shepard. I’ve taken every step along this path aware that as the most visible person standing behind you, I was making myself a target. When we decided to have kids, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life throwing myself in front of them every time there was a loud bang.” He reached up to touch her shoulder._ _ _ _

____Shepard ducked back from his hand, shaking her head. She didn’t know what would happen if he touched her right then. All she had room inside her to feel was the way the cord tying her to Lenka had snapped, and how being pulled between them kept her from reaching any of them. If it had been the cord to Garrus that snapped . . .._ _ _ _

_____Which one next, Shepard?_ _ _ _ _

____“I told you months ago that you would never escape death or having to make the hard choices, Shepard. It kills me to watch you go through the aftermath, because you refuse to let me carry any of the burden.” Lunging a little, he grabbed her shoulders, his thumbs stroking along the seam between her chest guard and pauldrons._ _ _ _

____Try as she might to keep it strong and steady, Garrus’s caress along those chinks in her armour made her breathing hitch. Her words forced their way out past the sudden, agonizing pressure in her sinuses and throat. “Not you.”_ _ _ _

____Bending, putting their eyes at a level, Garrus pulled his gloves off and asked, “What do you mean?” He pressed his hand against her cheek. “Shepard?”_ _ _ _

____She pulled away for a couple of heartbeats, but then the heat of his hand, the aliveness of him pulled her in, and she pressed her face against the calloused talons. “They’re using the people I love against me. I can’t sacrifice you or Mercy to some overblown sense of responsibility.” She laid her hand over his. “I can’t change the galaxy, Garrus. At least, I’m not the only one who can.”_ _ _ _

____Unable to stand the warm or contact any longer, she twisted away from him. She let out a couple of soft, moaning breaths and walked toward the door. “I won’t sacrifice you or Mercy to my ego.”_ _ _ _

____His voice carried over her shoulder. “That’s a load of varren crap, and you know it.” His talons gripped her wrist, the polymer of her undersuit burning the skin as he pulled her back, spinning her to face him. “You were the only one who could stop the Reapers. Balak and the Leviathan are only after you now because you are the one thing standing in the way of whatever the hell they’re doing.”_ _ _ _

____Shaking her head, fast and violent, Shepard reached up and snapped the seals on her chest guard, tearing it away. “Am I never allowed to be finished, Garrus? I’ve lost Lenka because I’m standing in their way. I almost lost Mercy because I’m standing in their way.” She wrenched her wrist from his grip and yanked off her glove. Reaching up, she pressed her fingertips into the furrow cut through his fringe. “And this?” A black, fanged satisfaction rolled through her as he flinched away in pain. She held her fingers in front of his face, stained with his blood. “Do I lose you as well?”_ _ _ _

____He snatched her hand out of the air and pressed the backs of her fingers to his mouth. “Shepard, we can do a lot of good in this world, in this galaxy. We can and will get Lenka back. Don’t let this darkness take your heart.”_ _ _ _

____She pulled away and hit the door control. “That’s all I’ve got inside me any more, Garrus.” She stripped her armour off as she strode across the common room, tripping a little when one shin guard stuck._ _ _ _

____“Well, that’s not good enough, Shepard,” he called, chasing after her. “Not nearly. We need you. You’re not allowed to just check out.”_ _ _ _

____She stopped at the bedroom door, armour piled under both arms. “Why, Garrus? Why can’t I just check out?”_ _ _ _

____“My daughter deserves better than a mother who turns to stone the moment she holds her. I deserve better than a mate who can stand lying in my arms for about thirty seconds before she sends herself into exile on the other side of the bed . . .. Who can’t even make love any more.” He strode over to her, popping the seals and lifting off his armour. “You told me to pull you back when you started to get lost, well, I’m weeks too late on that.” He set his yoke and chest guard on the floor and reached up to strip the armour from his arm. “The second we walked into this _domin_ , you checked out on us.”_ _ _ _

____Shepard opened their bedroom door and stepped inside, dumping her armour inside and bent to wrestle her way out of her boots. Trapped, caged inside the outer trappings that held her prisoner in a life of constant battle, she began to feel a very real, very ugly panic building. “Is that what I am, Garrus? Am I lost? Checked out?” She tossed her boots over toward the closet. “Is that what this thick, black, evil poison running through my veins is called?”_ _ _ _

____He stripped off the rest of his armour, piling it behind one of the chairs, stopping when his undersuit hung around his waist to walk over to her. “Is that what you’re feeling?”_ _ _ _

____Her hands flew out, spiked barricades to keep him at bay, and she spun, striding into their room, peeling off her underlayer. “I hold you, and I resent the safety I feel, because Lenka isn’t safe.” As the cold air hit her legs below her shorts and arms under her t-shirt sleeves, she felt naked . . . exposed . . . and held the underlayer between them like a shield._ _ _ _

____“I hold Mercy to my breast,” she continued, “and I wonder if anyone is holding Lenka, if she’s getting enough to eat, if she’s afraid.” She swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the floor. “If she remembers that we love her.”_ _ _ _

____“And you don’t think I feel any of that?” Garrus ripped the undersuit away and tossed it. He stepped toward her, but Shepard shoved him back and spun, ducking away from his hands._ _ _ _

____When she stood between him and the door, she turned back. Despite whispering, she felt the barbs on every word as that black hole spat them out. “How do you do it, Garrus?”_ _ _ _

____Her mate felt them. She saw a wall slam up between them. “How do I do what, Shepard? Say it plainly.”_ _ _ _

____She winced away from the venom lacing her own words, feeling it burn in the furrows the barbs left in her guts. “Get up every day, breathe, live, function like there isn’t this huge piece missing?”_ _ _ _

____His eyes took on a bitter shine as his head nodded, just the slightest movement, his mandibles dropping as she saw his breath hitch, his throat convulsing twice. “Is that what I’ve been doing?”_ _ _ _

____Solid and brutal as a spear driven into the earth, she lunged at him, her feet still rooted to the spot. “Why don’t you hate me?” Her voice shot up, not quite shouting but only because she bit down on every word._ _ _ _

____The glassiness spilled from the corner of one eye, and as he opened his mouth to speak a soft keen broke through on the leading edge of his words. “I think you’ve been doing enough of that on your own, don’t you, Shepard?” He stepped toward her, but she thrust her hands out at him again. He stopped, his next words barely audible. “Do you hate me?”_ _ _ _

____She shook her head, but the black hole hissed at the lie, and her arms dropped. She tried to look into his eyes but couldn’t face the unshed tears gathered there._ _ _ _

____Again the small, sad nod. “Neither one of us did anything wrong when they took her. We fought like hell.” He closed the distance between them slowly. “You’re doing everything you can to get her back. Just because your overdeveloped sense of guilt keeps telling you otherwise . . ..” He held a hand out to her. “It doesn’t make it true, Shepard.”_ _ _ _

____She just stared at his hand, part of her wanting to take it, to have him pull her into his arms and hold her, wanting it so badly that the ache just made the anger worse. She had no right. She didn’t deserve any comfort. Her eyes locked on the blood staining his face. She promised to protect them, all of them._ _ _ _

_____Bang up job, Shepard._ _ _ _ _

____“You don’t have to hate yourself for being happy with Mercy, for loving her -- or me. It doesn’t mean that you love or miss Lenka any less.” He grabbed her hand. “You need to be here, with us.”_ _ _ _

____She ripped her hand out of his, shouting before she even knew she intended to speak. “How, Garrus?” Shepard threw her pack across the room into the closet. Behind her Mercy began to scream, the sound of her terrified baby ripping a huge gash down her spine. “How am I supposed to be a proper mother to Mercy? Every minute I hold her, every moment I look into her eyes, I feel this happiness and love, and every minute of it feels like dying.”_ _ _ _

____Storming over to the crib, she looked down inside and tried to smile. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm the beast raging inside her. Her baby needed her, and all she could find was the seething darkness._ _ _ _

____“Don’t you dare pick her up in that state,” Garrus growled and called out the door. “Gira, please take Mercy somewhere she can’t hear us.”_ _ _ _

____The female eased past Shepard, cooing and making rumbling chirping noises, but even the turian subvocal music didn’t ease the baby’s crying._ _ _ _

____Seeing the hysterical tears rolling down Mercy’s cheeks, knowing that she caused them . . .. Shepard froze, her heart seizing, one massive convulsion of agony, as the tether holding her to her baby shuddered._ _ _ _

_____You’re going to destroy that beautiful girl all on your own, Shepard._ _ _ _ _

____A soft mewl of horror and agony sawed its way through the barricade erected in her throat, and she bolted from the room, running through the common room and out the front door._ _ _ _


	4. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes demolishing the house completely is the only way to properly rebuild it.

**Hyalus** \-- A particular type of spun glass used to make beautiful, abstract figures. It is always the natural blue/grey of the sand from which it is fired, but may contain threads or wires of metal (usually precious). Spinning hyalus figures is a singular art form, its secrets jealously guarded by its turian masters. 

**Torin** \-- Torini plural. Male turian of the age of majority (15)  
 **Tarin** \-- Tarini plural. Female turian of the age of majority (15)

**Praela(s)** \-- The name for ancient warrior spirits who were believed to ride great beasts into war at the head of their tribe’s legions. Spirits of great bravery, tenacity, and a fearsome beauty.

**Cohamentum** \-- Dance of the elements. Performed during turian bonding ceremonies. How well the two bond-mates stay with one another and perform the dance despite never having danced it together prior is said to predict the longevity and success of their mating.

**Sorau dulca** \-- Sweet sister. A term of affection between females of any social tier, but particularly mother/daughter, sisters, aunt/niece, grandmother/granddaughter. 

**Soluvermus** \-- A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven’s more northern and southern regions. 

 

**July 28, 2188**

 

“Shepard!”

She ignored Garrus’s shout and ran blind, only managing to aim for smooth ground in front of her. A thunderstorm smashed around the inside of her head, lightning striking out of the black hole and searing along her spine to arc through her skull. Her stomach gave four hiccoughing warnings, and then her last meal forced its way up. Still running, she stumbled into the rubble off to the side and collapsed onto her knees. She heaved until nothing came up, then heaved some more. Only once knots of muscle spasms held her hunched over did she stop, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Shepard.” 

She turned toward the soft, relieved tones, watching Garrus ease down to a walk. Eyes darting to meet his, she shied away from the worry and empathy in his stare, and pushed herself to her feet. Turning away from the _domin_ , she continued down the cleared path, her skinned knees stinging.

Garrus’s long sigh rumbled after her. “Shepard, stop running.”

Lashing out like a cornered wildcat, Shepard spun, a fierce hand pointing back toward the house. “Did you see Mercy’s face, Garrus? My baby is terrified of me.” She swooped down, picked up a rock and threw it as hard as she could into the field of rubble, not sure what to do with all the fear and pain. It felt like a billion insects crawling under the foreign, rotting cocoon of her skin. 

He took a step toward her, his hands held out. “She’s scared because we were fighting. She hasn’t heard us argue.” His talons darted for her shoulder, but she ducked away from them. “Spirits, I haven’t heard us fight like that. It’s scaring the hell out of me, right now.”

She jerked her head at him, and he stopped. “I’m losing myself, Garrus. I’m turning into something . . ..” Her brows knit together as she tried to force the truth out through her denial. The black hole stretched and yawned lightning that seared through her head. Clapping her hands to her temples, she squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth until the pain passed.

“You’re not turning into anything, Shepard. You’ve always taken everything on yourself. When Ash died, Mordin, Thane . . . all of them.” He hesitated, his mandibles dropping, his voice rolling with comforting subharmonics. “And you know they weren’t the first or the worst. You carry the weight of every death all the way back to your family, and you beat yourself for never being fast or strong enough to save them all.”

_“If I’d just obeyed Dad and stayed home.”_ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to banish the oldest of the ‘if onlys’.

Garrus took a step closer but didn’t move to touch her. His eyes, when she finally had the courage to meet them, didn’t hold anger or even disappointment. All she saw on his face or heard in his voice when he spoke, was a combination of sorrow and love. “You’ve let me love you, and you’ve let me stand with you, but you’ve never let me share any of the burden.”

Shepard glared at him -- he should know better -- and wandered a little further into the dark. “You’ve got your own worries, Garrus. Adding to them is too selfish.” His subvocal manipulation calmed the storm in her head, leaving her wrung out and exhausted. She should be furious with him for pushing calm on her, but the relief felt too good to argue against. She flopped down onto a concrete block and stretched her feet out in front of her. Leaning down until her chest rested on her thighs, she let her arms hang limp at her sides, fingers trailing in the dirt.

“That’s the part of all this you’ve never understood.” He crouched a metre away. “Sharing the load is why people get married. It doesn’t add to my problems or pain to help you with yours. It’s the opposite. Taking care of you and Mercy helps me cope with Lenka’s absence. You make it better not worse.” A long sigh, the saddest she could remember hearing, escaped his throat, a soft keen underlying it. “Why do I make it worse for you, Shepard? Why does Mercy make it worse?”

Shepard jumped up and strode down the trail toward the valley. “I don’t know how to explain this any better than I have, Garrus.”

“I heard what you said.” A short sharp grumble followed her, but she didn’t hear footsteps. “You asked me how I get up in the morning, how I can love you and Mercy without it killing me?” He stopped, and she could hear him swallowing even across that distance. 

His question halted her in her tracks. She turned to look at him, staring into his eyes for a moment before she nodded. “How?” The single word whispered out, a plea -- almost a prayer -- for help.

He took a single step toward her, but that step felt like an answer to her prayer. “When we get Lenka back, she is going to need all of us at our best. She needs me to be the best father and the best mate I can be. If I allow us . . .” He gestured back and forth between them. “. . . to fall apart, what is she coming back to? If I allow myself to shut down or dig my way back down into the bottom of a bottle, which I’ve been more than tempted to do, how does that help her? When she comes back, she’s not going to recognize her family.” 

He shrugged, a quick drop of his head, his hands flipping once. “I do wonder if Lenka is safe when I am holding the two of you. I don’t sit down to a single meal without wondering if she’s being fed well.” A hand reached out a couple of centimetres, waited a moment, then fell back to his side. “But I still hold Mercy. I still eat. I’m doing it for Lenka, because we’re going to get her back, Shepard.” His long strides ate up half the distance between them.

In return, Shepard took a step toward him. “I’m scared, Garrus.” She balled her fists together and punched them into her diaphragm, just below her breasts. She punched her fists into her belly again. “I’ve spent my whole life protecting people I didn’t even know, and even though it’s been hard scraping sometimes, I’ve always succeeded.” Shaking her head, she pressed her fists in between the sharp blades of her ribs, her shoulders and back bowing in around them.

Garrus closed the gap another step.

“Fighting Saren, he came at me.” Throwing her hands out to the sides, she paced to the edge of the rubble field. “Sovereign came at me. Harbinger . . . they all came at _me_ , Garrus.” She swooped down, snatched up another chunk of rubble, and threw it into the night. A fierce satisfaction straightened her shoulders. “They came at me, and I fought them. I took down every last fucking one of them. If I needed to force two sides of an argument together, I did it. If I needed to allow friends to sacrifice themselves, I did. If I needed to blow up a planet, I goddamned well did it. Whatever it took . . . I did it.” 

Throwing punches at the darkness, she thrashed, trying to beat something to death that she couldn’t see, hear or smell. Maybe, somehow, if she could fight hard enough, the monster inside her -- all the fear and rage -- would manifest, and she could kill it once and for all. “You want me, you bastards, you come at me!” She screamed, a wordless shrill of rage and helplessness as her fists turned, slamming into her chest, turning on the terror that threatened to blow her apart. “You come at me! You leave my husband and my children out of it.” The ground smacked into her knees peeling the skin from the heels of her hand before she realized that she’d collapsed. Her head dropped, limp, between her shoulders, her voice lowering to a whisper. “You leave the people I love out of it, and you come at me.”

“Shepard.” Garrus crouched and reached out, not close enough to touch her.

She scrambled up and turned on him, hands thrust out, holding him at bay. Holding empathy and pity and love at bay. Love eroded her, empathy rusted and pitted the steel she needed to make it through. Trusting love to keep her strong . . .. Balak showed her the folly of that. Love just gave them more targets. 

“No, Garrus. I can’t do it. I can’t love this hard and set you and our babies up like targets. What was I thinking trying to have a family and a normal life?” Tears burned her eyes like acid. She swiped them away, but the burn remained, harsh and insistent. “I knew better. I fucking well knew better, but then I met you and fell in love. I wanted it so badly, and now I’ve put all of you in danger.”

“Jane. Garrus.”

Shepard looked up, frowning and running forward a couple of steps as Gira walked toward them. “Is Mercy okay?”

The _tarin_ ’s mandibles fluttered in a reassuring smile. “Yes, she’s fine. Sol is playing with her, doing her physio.” Stopping between them, she let out a long sigh. “Her parents, however, are not doing very well at all.” She nodded over toward a large, mostly intact foundation. “Come and sit with me.” When they didn’t follow, she rumbled at them like unruly children. “Come. It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Shepard followed, keenly aware as she dragged her toes through the ash and dirt, that she looked the part of a petulant teen. When Gira sat in the corner of two walls, Shepard waited to see which side Garrus sat on and chose the other.

While Gira took obvious note of where they sat, she said nothing about it. She reached out and took their hands. “When Lazan died, Rossus and I were devastated, naturally. You believe you know the risks your children are taking when they go out into the galaxy, but nothing can prepare you for losing them. Lazan was so young, just off to the academy. Far too young to leave the _domin_ one morning never to return.” 

Gira squeezed Shepard’s hand, forestalling the any words of sympathy. Staring down at the bare talons gripping her hand, Shepard suddenly saw everything that bound them together as females, wives, and mothers. It eased the storm, sending the darkness muttering back into the hole. 

“Rossus showed the galaxy the face any proper turian father should show: stoic, resolute, proud of his son for showing such bravery and saving so many of his fellow cadets. I didn’t show myself at all. At night, I would hear him keen, but I was too wrapped up in my own grief to comfort my beloved in his.” 

She swallowed and craned her neck a little as if working past something lodged in her throat. “That morning, Lazan and I argued. He wanted to move into the cadet housing. We lived so close that I couldn’t see why he would.” She chuckled softly. “Well, that’s what I said. He was so bright . . . entered the academy nearly a cycle early. I just wasn’t ready to let my youngest leave . . . wasn’t ready to be alone in the _domin_.” The _tarin_ shifted a little, stretching her back.

Shepard flipped her hand over to hold Gira’s in hers.

A soft, musical sigh drifted on the warm, humid breeze. “Rossus slept in our eldest son’s room because every time he came within ten metres of me, I screamed at him for not driving Lazan to the academy that morning and for leading both our sons into the military. Of course, he never encouraged them one way or the other. He believed they deserved to choose what path of service called to them, but he was a safe place to vent all the pain and anger.” She pulled both of their hands closer to her, looking from one to the other. 

“Our eldest son, Narlan, came home on leave almost a cycle later. He strode straight in the door, grabbed his father by the wrist, and dragged him shouting and struggling into our bedroom. I hadn’t bothered to even get out of bed that day. I just lay there, staring out the window. When they came in the room, both of them broke down and embraced me. Narlan forced us to talk, told us that he still needed us, and we saw that we needed one another as well.”

Gira turned to look at Shepard, her eyes sad and serious. “Life happens, Jane, and there is so little that we can do about most of it. All we can do is focus on what’s in front of us, right now. If Lenka doesn’t come home . . ..”

Shepard shook her head and jumped up, mouth opening to protest, but Gira pulled her back down and silenced her with a talon over her lips. 

“If she never comes back to you, will you sacrifice the rest of your family, or will you give them everything you would have given her? She might never come home.” She released Garrus and reached up to caress Shepard’s cheek. “I know no one wants to say that, and I hope it’s not the case, but it’s a possibility.” She tilted her head behind her toward Garrus without taking her gaze from Shepard’s. “You have so much else to live for. Don’t spend your time obsessing over what you don’t have, Jane. You will miss out on so much life, so much joy. You’re doing what you can to find your daughter. Now do what you can to give her a solid home and a sane, healthy mother to come home to.”

She pulled Shepard toward her, her brow warm and smooth against Shepard’s, her talons light on the admiral’s shoulders. Shepard closed her eyes, feeling an energy moving between them, almost as if they formed two parts of the same person . . . two halves that had never come in contact before, but having connected, settled into place. 

Gira’s voice remained soft, her tone and subvocals reaching down inside Shepard to lance a wound so old, she didn’t even realize that the pain wasn’t a normal part of her. “You could lose all of them at any time. Not just because of terrorists, but a thousand other things.” She pulled back and turned, reaching out to Garrus, pulling him over to crouch at her side. “Your father showed me vid of your bonding. I’ve never seen two people who love one another more than the two of you.” Her brow plates dropped and she chuffed, low and exasperated. “But you’re idiots. Always dancing around one another, trying not to say or do anything to make a mess.”

She shrugged, her hand tightening around Shepard’s almost painfully. “Life is mess. It’s arguing over drinking _puala_ nectar out of the container and whose turn it is to clean the bathroom. It’s making up, and making love, and having children, filling your lives with the chaos and laughter of them.” She touched brows with Shepard again, the admiral leaning into the touch that time, hungry for it as the other female’s presence drained that old wound. 

As if she could feel how badly Shepard needed a mother’s touch, Gira released her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “And yes, sometimes it’s losing them, and it breaks your soul into pieces, but if you’re as lucky as the two of you, there’s someone there to help you put it back together.” The _tarin_ ’s eyes returned to stare into Shepard’s. “Then your heart will break again and again. The whole messy business is your life, not just the bad parts and not just the good parts.” She pulled back and caressed Shepard’s cheek with her thumb. “Beautiful girl, I’m not trying to diminish your pain; I’ve felt it. But right now, you’re letting so much good fly right by you. You’re never going to get this time back with Mercy.”

Looking over at Garrus, she chuffed again and released his hand to cuff the back of his head. “And you’re letting her, because you treat her like this fragile _hyalus_ instead of the _praela_ you know she is.” She stood, pulling them up behind her. “Come with me.” 

Shepard dragged a little, unsure what Gira intended to do with them. The voice of denial roared inside her. She couldn’t do what the _tarin_ said, and just live happily until Lenka came home. How was she supposed to do that? The black hole kicked up again, thunder and lightning roaring through her until she could barely see where she walked.

On the cleared trail, Gira released them. Turning to Shepard, she held out a hand. “Off with the shirt.”

Shepard arched a brow and pulled back, crossing her arms. “No. What?” She glanced around. No. She was the Vice-Commandant of the academy, Garrus was going to be confirmed in just over a week . . . she couldn’t just strip down in the middle of their neighbourhood.

Gira shook the hand at her a little. “Off with the shirt. Just do what you’re told before I have to slap you in the head.”

“Gira . . ..” Garrus stepped between them a little. “Humans . . ..” 

Shepard shifted behind him a little, offering up fervent prayers that if she could hide, Gira might forget about her crazy plan. 

“Yes, human females have mammaries.” Gira looked around. “I don’t see any human males around to be overcome by lust at the sight, nor do I expect her to be taken down by a pack of starving, feral human infants.” She jabbed her hand toward Shepard with an emphasis that belied the humour in her words. “I really am very serious.”

Shepard looked around again then shrugged out of her t-shirt and handed it over. She crossed her arms over herself, moving even further behind Garrus. This would be the time that some errant news crew would happen by to get aerial footage of the deviant human bond-mate of the newest hierarch.

Gira gestured to Garrus. “Come on, give your mate cover, because I want the lacy harness thing too.” She draped the shirt over her arm and held out her hand. Sighing, the elder _tarin_ deflated a little as they resisted. “Trust me, please? I haven’t lost my mind. I have a purpose.” 

Shepard looked up, tensing as Garrus moved in close, sheltering her against the right side of his body. Heart hammering in her chest, she took refuge against his side and she reached behind her to undo her bra, sliding it off. She passed it over then hunched in, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes moving without rest to be sure that the ruins weren’t suddenly filled with curious onlookers with cameras. 

Her eyes slid over to Gira every few seconds as she waited to see just what it was the _tarin_ had planned, but then they came to rest on the steel grey, almost iridescent sheen of the plates angled across Garrus’s chest. He stood tall, his shoulders back, making himself as large as he could as if worried that some lust-mad human male or pack of feral infants just might come along. Her fingertip touched a scar in the long plate that ran from under his arm to his keel. The years had left their share of wear and tear, just as they had upon her body, but as she looked up at him, she was struck by how beautiful her husband was. How had she stopped seeing that?

She moved a little closer into his heat envelope. When she’d first seen him, she’d thought his carapace would feel cool. The heat he threw off surprised her. Now her fingers ached to skate along those smooth lines, to let him draw her into the comfort of that warmth. His arms . . .. She swallowed a lump of what felt like pine cones. His arms always felt like a fortress capable of keeping the entire galaxy at bay.

“Better.” 

Shepard jumped a little at Gira’s voice as it broke her intent focus on Garrus. The _tarin_ backed up and sat on a chunk of wall, her back turned to them. “Now, I want you to dance the last two movements of the _Cohamentum_.”

They both spun to face her, both forgetting Shepard’s state of near undress. Shepard’s arms fell to hang numb at her sides, her eyebrows dropping. What sort of sick sadism would prompt Gira to do this to them? Fury smoldered through her, rising like bubbles in simmering water that prickled and burned from her fingers to her shoulders. How could Gira do that to Garrus? How could she think that reminding him of everything life had stolen from him since that day amounted to anything less than torture?

_Everything you’ve stolen from him since that day._

Shepard strode over and held out her hand, back and shoulders stiff, struggling to contain the panic and anger. “No. Give me back my clothing, please, Gira.”

Eyes like burnished copper stared straight into her, comforting as they shone with the warmth of the setting sun. It slipped along under her skin, easing the boiling anger. _“Time to stop. Time to remember,”_ it whispered.

“You lost something the moment you entered my _domin_.” A gentle smile eased the anger a little more. “What was it?”

Shepard backed up a step and shook her head, the movement reminding her of her state of undress, and she clapped her arms back across her chest. “Nothing.”

Garrus stepped up, sheltering her. “Shepard, you know that’s not true.” He held out his hand. “Please, we don’t have to do the movements, but let me hold you.”

She backed away. “Why can’t you all just let me deal with this?” The words squeezed out, shrill and flat. “We’ll get her back and everything will be all right.”

Movement up the road sent Shepard ducking in behind Garrus, easing out a little once she saw it was Sol and Mercy. “Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, just hungry, so I brought her and the blanket thing to you when you didn’t come to her.” Sol stopped and stared at Shepard for a moment, her eyes so intense that Shepard reflexively hid behind Garrus. After thirty seconds or so, Sol turned to Gira. “Here, this little melon can hang out with her _ama_ for a minute.” She eased Mercy out of the carrier’s folds and into the elder turian’s arms.

Once she untied the wrap, Sol turned back to Shepard, stepping around Garrus. “Look at you,” Sol said, her voice soft, rumbling with a low keen from her second larynx. “Dear spirits, Jane.” She took Shepard’s wrists in her talons and pulled her arms away from her torso. “You’re nothing but bones.” Her ice-blue eyes faded to grey in the dark as they glassed over, and her mandibles pulled in tight against her face. “Is Garrus going to have to find Lenka and raise these girls all by himself?”

Shepard shook her head and pulled her arms free, wrapping them around herself. “I’m fine.” She stepped closer into Garrus, but he turned leaving her unsheltered as Sol stepped in.

“Bullshit, you’re fine. How much weight have you lost? Fifteen kilos?” Sol’s words came out sharp-edged, her entire manner snapping from sad to terrifyingly furious. A lightning quick hand slapped Shepard in the back of the head, hard enough to make her ears ring. “If I had known that all this stupidity and selfishness was hiding under the woman I met, I would have told my brother to run his ass off until he was well clear of you” 

Sol chuffed in disgust. “You’ve decided to turn in on yourself, consume yourself in anger and self-pity and just die.” She slapped Shepard again. “Well, if you’re going to kill yourself, give me the leggings and wander off into the rubble to damn well do it. Let my brother mourn and move on, because I won’t allow you to make him watch you commit suicide slowly.”

Shepard’s legs trembled, threatening to dump her in a heap to moulder along with the rest of the ruins. Her mind spun, searching for an answer to Sol’s accusations, but just ended up looping in useless, incoherent panic. Wrapping her arms around herself, she backed away from them, looking from one to the next, eyes never staying fixed on one of them for more than a second. “Sol, I . . ..” Stumbling backwards a couple of steps, she clenched her jaw against the traitorous tears and shook her head. 

“Is that it? You’re going?” Sol cocked her hip and crossed her arms. When Garrus moved, she grabbed his arm and held him back. She shrugged. “You’re moving away from us, not toward us, so . . ..”

Shepard stopped, her eyes looking to Mercy, latching onto her. Her face caved into an agonized grimace. Opening her mouth to speak, she took a halting step forward.

“No.” Sol stepped in front of the baby, blocking Shepard’s view. The movement stole the air from the space where Shepard stood, leaving her sucking vacuum. Her hands shot up to ball at her throat, nails digging into the skin as she tried to draw breath against the crushing absence. Her joints strained against the bones, her lungs burned and hitched endlessly as they tried to take a breath but failed. Spaced again. Suffocating and decompressing again.

_Just let go, damn it. Just let it all go._

“This baby needs a mother, not the frigid teats and stiff arms of a corpse that hasn’t wised up enough to lie down.” Sol nodded toward the wasteland of downtown. “Go on, if you’re going. I’m sure you can find a great many pistols out there willing to take care of that troublesome breathing-heartbeat issue for you.”

“No.” Shepard took another halting step, her whole body shaking.

Sol barked a cold and bitter laugh. “No, what?”

Shepard lifted her head and let out a quick huff of breath, her back straightening a little. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” The black hole belched up fury, forcing her ramrod straight. “This is my husband and child.”

Sol shrugged. “I don’t know that you have a choice in it. I don’t see anything in front of me that I want near my family.” 

Shepard drew herself up, the fury demanding that she strike back, throw Sol to the ground and kick the crap out of her. How dare the turian make demands of her, tell her to leave her family?

Sol laughed, ice cracking along a river. “You going to fight me? Well, come on then. Right now the baby could lay you out, and you think you’re going to take down one of the top-ranked hand to hand specialists in the turian military?” Taking a couple of steps forward, she held out her hands. “Well?”

Shepard looked to Garrus who stood slightly behind Sol’s left shoulder, his stare meeting and holding hers, but he looked as gob-smacked and lost as she felt. He shifted, one foot scraping forward a couple of centimetres, but his sister put her arm out to stop him.

“Don’t look to him. He’d hold you until the moment you disappeared. He loves you enough to put himself through that. I love him too much to allow it.” Sol nodded toward Mercy who giggled and grabbed for Gira’s mandibles as the _tarin_ made faces. “And don’t even think about testing me over that _puala_ fruit. I’ll kill you myself before I let you put her through that.”

“Sol . . ..” Shepard felt the anger flash into a plume of flame and smoke, then vanish. She raked her hands through her hair and spun away from her family, pacing fast and frantic a couple steps one way, then the other. What? What was she supposed to do? She stopped, her arms falling to dangle loose from her shoulders. The trembling eased, but the helplessness hung on. What did she do? What could she do? 

“What?” Her sister took a stride toward her. “What, Jane?”

Shepard’s hands flipped helplessly at her sides.

“Say it, come on! Just fucking say it, Jane.” Sol’s laugh smashed the ice, letting the river loose, but it rolled over Shepard like a wave of acid sludge. “You’ve never said it before?” Leaning forward, she tilted her head. “You’re the answer woman, the fixer. Every situation is something you can repair. If you don’t see how to win right away, you’ll beat the problem to death until it gives up its solution, right?” A knowing nod chased a derisive chuff from the _tarin_ ’s throat. “If you try to beat this into submission, you’re going to kill yourself.”

Shepard took a long, slow breath, her face relaxing into a frown as she turned to look into her sister’s eyes again. 

Sol nodded, her whole demeanour softening. “So say it. What’s going to happen if you just admit it? Is the galaxy going to come to an end?”

The air felt moist and warm, almost filling in an oddly satisfying way as Shepard drew in a long breath. “I don’t know what to do.” As the words drifted out, she wasn’t sure she’d spoken them, so tried them on again. “I don’t know what to do, Sol.”

The _tarin_ smiled, a wide flutter of her mandibles, and nodded. “That’s because there’s nothing you can do, _sorau dulca_. For all the planning, actions, task forces, and maneuvering, at the end of the day, there is nothing you can do to force the universe to give Lenka back.” She took a step forward. “It’s okay to not know what to do, sometimes. It’s even okay to be unable to do anything or to stop something from happening.”

Shepard turned back to look at Garrus. He nodded a little and held out his hand. She took another of the deep breaths that felt as though they filled her whole body with air and warmth. It poured into the hole, and for a moment, the darkness stopped pulling her down. She took advantage of the second of clarity, her heart and mind dropping their shackles, and just breathed. 

“I don’t know how to get our girl back, Garrus,” she said, the words flat and worn, all the barbs and edges stripped.

He nodded. “I know.” A tiny shrug lowered his head in his cowl. “I don’t either. I wish I did.”

She took a step toward him, filling herself with another slow, deep breath. “But I don’t know how to live without her.” 

He just nodded, his hand still held out. “We’ll keep searching until we find her.”

“I can’t fix this.” The realization settled gently into the space between them. She waited for the crushing pain to follow it, but the words just hung there. Her body felt oddly hollow. “I can’t fix this.”

“What happened when you came into my _domin_ , Jane?” Gira asked, her voice soft and toned to soothe Mercy. She stood and cradled the baby against her shoulder, bouncing a little.

Taking another step forward, Shepard looked into Garrus’s eyes, realizing belatedly and with surprise that he wasn’t wearing his visor. Her mouth opened and the words spilled out as if wondering why she hadn’t just set them free a month before. “On the _Normandy_ , I always felt her right beside me. I could lie in bed, close my eyes, and hear her whispering to Jane instead of going to sleep.” Tears filled her head and clouded her vision. She sniffed and blinked them back, pressing her lips together. An ache flowed from the hole in the center of her chest, slowly spreading out along her ribs and down her spine. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I could sit at my desk, lean back, and hear her reading to herself down on the bed, or splashing water around in the shower.”

She bit down on the inside of her bottom lip, her body convulsing in slow waves of grief, then sucked in a long, wet breath. Sniffing, she swiped at her cheeks and nose as the tears spilled free. “It was like she was always just in the other room, and would be right back.” She glanced up to meet Garrus’s eyes for a moment, but then looked away, ashamed, as she whispered, “I’d ask to make love, because I prayed that afterward, Kaidan or Dad would just bring her back, like every other time.” Her hand rose, trembled like a leaf sighing on the wind for a moment, then fell. “I’m so sorry, Garrus.” 

Backing up a couple of steps, she clenched her arms over her chest again and looked up into the black sky. Quiet sobs dragged her along the rocky bottom of her grief, but then she surfaced with another thick, sticky sniff and wiped her face with both hands. She looked into her husband’s eyes, praying not to see reproach there. “But god, when we walked in the door here, she was just gone.” She reached out, only love and sorrow looking back at her. “Our Lenka was just gone, Garrus.”

He nodded and strode forward, taking her hand and pulling her in against him. “I know, Shepard.” He leaned down and nuzzled her brow. “I know.”

Shepard wrapped her arms around him and pressed along his length. Closing her eyes she focused on the solid, familiar heat of him against her skin, the scent of him. He bent down far enough for her to tuck her head in under his jaw. 

“Now, the last movements of the _Cohamentum_ ,” Gira said, her whisper feeding rather than disturbing the calm that settled over them.

Garrus pulled back a little, staring into her eyes as he reached behind him for her hands. She stared right back, her palms pressed to his. He eased away from her, his right foot drawing back. As if she’d done it the day before, Shepard followed him, rising onto her toes, trusting him to hold her as he drew her forward, her body angled and resting almost entirely on their joined hands. 

She breathed slow, clean breaths, pouring them down into the hole, the storm clouds there settling, albeit loathfully. Garrus stepped into her and past in two fluid strides, twirling her so that their arms embraced in front of her. She hopped, and he lifted and spun them both. His strength flowed down his arms and into hers, steadying their trembling. He held her through an extra turn, then spun her back, their eyes locking once more as he pulled her in against him. Her skin brushed against his, tingling and heated with the contact, and she knew why Gira had taken her shirt. For first time in nearly seven months, Shepard felt her husband’s body alive and present. Since Lenka’s abduction, she’d used him, and she’d given in to his needs, but she hadn’t made love to her husband in more than seven months.

Through the movements, the way he held her, even the emotions playing out in his eyes, he opened himself to her. His patience, his compassion, his strength and unflinching loyalty -- the beauty of him that she’d forgotten to see -- washed over her like warm summer rain. Tears flowed again, but softly, with the gentleness of shared mourning, of grief met with understanding and love. His love. He radiated it, caressing her from head to foot as it pulled her in, asking her to open the gates and let him into the fortress of rage and mourning she’d erected around herself.

_You don’t deserve him. You’ve never deserved him._

The black hole fought back, but she breathed into it, keeping it under a tremulous control. She needed to be the mother Lenka remembered. She needed to do a whole lot better by Mercy and Garrus. Getting angry and hard, erecting walls that cut her off from everyone . . . it played right into Balak’s hands. It played right into the enemy’s hands, regardless of what they called themselves. The people around her were the only reason she defeated Saren, the Collectors, and the Reapers. Without them, she would have stumbled far more than she did. Without Garrus catching her each time, she would have fallen and never gotten back up.

She wrapped around him as the water sank into the earth, feeding the mother of all life. She heard Mercy laugh, and a smile broke across her face. Just before the wedding, she’d looked into the mirror and watched Jane Shepard: Garrus Vakarian’s wife, Mercy and Lenka’s mother painted over Commander Shepard. That woman in the mirror held so much hope, so much joy in her new role, her family. How had she allowed that felicity to turn to ash? Why had she fallen back into Commander Shepard’s threadbare, expired shell like a butterfly crawling back into its chrysalis? 

Allowing the new, warm, loving woman from the mirror to assert herself once more, Shepard pressed herself against Garrus, the steps smoothing and beginning to flow with that quicksilver fluidity they’d left behind only two days after finding it. A hollow wind drifted across the spaces where she’d etched so many beautiful vows. Surely promises made from a place that deep couldn’t just be wiped away by circumstance.

Shepard pulled back a little without missing a step, weaving a gentle caress down his mandible into the movements. He’d kept every single one of his vows, despite losing Lenka, despite his PTSD getting worse every day. She brushed a kiss against his mouth as she twirled, coming back around to be lifted and cradled in his arms. Pressing her brow to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I promise to share in your joys and your sorrows, care for you when you are ill, uplift you when you are down, and support you in all things,” she whispered, her tone musical and too low to carry beyond his hearing. “I promise to be your safe harbour; the one, true thing upon which you can always depend . . ..” She kept her arms tight around his neck as he lowered her feet to the ground. “. . . the person who speaks truth when it seems as though lies are all you can hear; the arms that will always hold you when you need to be reminded that you are cherished; the mother of your children; and your most faithful companion.”

She stared into his eyes, the black hole muttering to itself but still gripped tight. “I can’t promise to remember them every moment, Garrus, but I’m sorry that I’ve failed in keeping those promises so completely since I made them.” She reached up and caressed his scars. “I always assume you’ll be there when I fight my way out of the craziness.”

“I always will be, Shepard.” His voice reached down inside and blocked that hollow wind, allowing the dust to clear enough for her to see the promises she’d made still etched clear and bold.

“And then I tell you to trust me to be there for you and promptly disappear into the crazy again. I’ve got to stop. Somehow, I have to stop saying I’m going to do better and actually do better.” Standing on her toes, she rested her brow gently against his chin. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

He nuzzled her. “We’ve been through death and back, Shepard. We need to quit thinking our bond is so fragile that it can’t withstand our being honest with one another.” He laughed soft and frustrated. “Damn, we’ve said we’re going to be honest with one another more than once too, but never do it, haven’t we? But, you know, Mrs. Vakarian, we keep making it through all the madness and crisis intact, so I feel fairly sure our bond can handle the same problems before they grow from _soluvermus_ into thresher maws.”

Sol walked up, wrapping an arm around them both. “Start, please, because if you two ever force me to be that mean again, I’ll shoot you both. Kaidan and I will raise your kids. Understood?”

Shepard slipped an arm out from between her husband and her sister and reached up, pressing it against the back of Sol’s long, graceful neck. “Thank you, _sorau dulca_. I love you.”

Sol pressed her brow to Shepard’s. “And I, you.” She touched brows with her brother, then released them. She threaded Mercy’s wrap between Shepard and Garrus, tying it around Shepard’s waist. After hugging them both again, she headed back up to the _domin_ , stopping a few metres up to wait for Gira..

Gira helped Shepard nestle Mercy into the folds of the wrap. 

“Thank you, Gira.” She leaned over and kissed the _tarin_ ’s cheek. 

The female nodded and reached up to press her talons to Shepard’s cheek, then Garrus’s and followed Sol.

Mercy giggled and cooed, singing away in her own private language as she smiled up at Shepard.

“Hey, beautiful.” She cradled her daughter in her arms and lifted her to press kisses to her brow, nose and cheeks. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry I scared you. I promise, Mommy will never do that again.” She settled Mercy to nurse then looked up at Garrus.

After a second, he nodded and pulled them both close, resting his brow against the top of Shepard’s head. “We’ll be okay, Shepard. Just don’t give up on us.”

She turned a little in his arms so she could rest one side against his length. “We need a safe word, Garrus. When we notice the other one slipping, we can offer a little reminder that we want things to be different.”

His mandibles fluttered. “I know just the words.”

She smiled and nodded as he spoke, knowing exactly what words he intended to use. The black hole moaned and rolled, but she closed her eyes and leaned into her husband, savouring the warmth of him against her skin and her daughter held close and safe to her breast. The missing piece of her heart needed to return to a sane, functional, loving family. Garrus was oh so right about that.

“I love you, Shepard,” he whispered into her hair.

“And I love you, Garrus. Always.”


	5. The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The build back up after the breaking down.

**July 28, 2188**

Stepping through the door, Shepard felt Gira’s domin wrap comforting arms around her, drawing her into its warmth. Closing her eyes for a moment, she listened to the low, rich voices talking in the _caman_. Over the month, her comprehension of the closed dialect had become proficient enough to glean that the topic of their discussion was Garrus’s confirmation in a few days and his security up until that all-important vote. A topic of some serious concern considering what happened earlier. She needed to talk to Barl and Herros. Hell, she’d follow her husband everywhere herself if necessary.

She inhaled a deep breath of roasting meat. Her stomach growled, not caring that the meat would probably kill her. Another deep breath and she shook her head as her nose identified meatloaf. Gira went out of her way to make Shepard feel at home, even having taken levo cooking lessons in order to make her favorites. Before they moved out on their own, Shepard knew she needed to learn how to cook for Garrus. Bare minimum she could avoiding kill her husband, but maybe she could also learn to make him food that didn’t taste like it came from the waste bin.

“Shepard?” Garrus stepped around her, his hand pressing into the small of her back. “Everything okay?”

A weary, watercolour smile painted itself across her face as she looked into his eyes and nodded. “I’m fine.” She looked around her. “I hope our house feels like this.”

He guided her into the common room, heading toward the bedroom. “It’ll be even better, because it’ll be ours.”

“The evening meal will be ready in half an hour,” Gira called from her seat at the table. The three turians nursed steaming cups of _amarceru._

“It smells amazing,” Shepard said as she scooted past into the room.

As she entered the cool, comfortable bedroom, she knew what Garrus meant when he said their home would be even more comforting. Even just that bedroom, their temporary home, smelled of them. The herbs they used in their cleansers, Mercy’s fresh baby scent, just . . . them, and it made a difference. All it lacked were the cheery giggles of a small batarian.

_Our home._

Those words settled deep and true. _Ours._ That’s what it came down to. She untangled Mercy from her wrap and laid her down in the middle of the large bed, then untied and unwound the fabric. Stripping off her shorts, she swapped them for a soft robe of cream _tussat_ fiber, one of her wedding gifts. She ran her fingers over the thick, heavy weave, marvelling at its softness. Why hadn’t she worn it before?

_Punishing myself, of course. How much would dad hate me doing that?_

Sitting on the side of the bed, Shepard leaned over to rub Mercy’s belly. “Your grandpa would have loved to meet you. He had hands bigger than you, but they were so gentle. His laugh boomed like a thunderstorm, but the kind you curl up to listen to, cozy and comfortable in a blanket by the fire.”

Garrus walked in the door and headed to the closet, putting his armour away far more neatly than Shepard had. Hers spilled out the door and halfway across the room. Garrus bent to pick it up.

“That’s okay, Garrus. I can put it away.”

He shook his head and nodded toward Mercy. “I’ve got it. What were my ladies talking about?”

“I was just telling the biscuit about her grandfather.” She let out a long, exhausted breath and closed her eyes. “I could sleep forever.”

He finished stacking her armour. “Why don’t we save time and have a group shower, eat and then collapse?” He walked over and ran his talons through Shepard’s hair. “You’ve had a tough day, and my head hurts.”

Shepard stood and reached up to check out his wound, doing her best to block out how close the bullet had come to stealing her husband. “Bend down so I can see it.” When he did as she asked, she prodded and poked a bit. “Not feeling nauseated at all, are you?”

“No.” He reached up and took her hands in his. “There’s no concussion, just a big, sore-as-hell furrow in my fringe. Nothing a little medigel and a couple of days won’t fix.” He tugged on her hands. “Come on, grab Mercy, and we’ll pile in the shower.”

Instead, Shepard slipped her arms around him. The black hole rumbled and groaned, but she breathed into it and concentrated on the feeling of her husband pressed up against her. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, realizing the truth as she said it. Spending every night alone on the last half metre of bed, her back turned to where she wanted to be, had been penance. “I almost lost you tonight,” she whispered, “and I’d wasted the last month.”

Garrus leaned down and nuzzled her temple. When he spoke, she could hear the smile in his words. “I’ve always got your back, Shepard. Always.”

She pulled back and reached up to caress the side of his face. “I know, and from here on on out, I’m going to do a whole lot better at having yours.” Standing on her toes, she leaned up to kiss him. “Okay, getting clean in time for supper.” She turned to lift Mercy off the bed. “You definitely need a shower baby girl. It’s all those long hours of being cute, I understand. It’s so hard to stay baby fresh when working that hard.”

A half hour later, the family sat down to the evening meal, Mercy doing her best to wear more than she ate while Garrus patiently scooped it all back up and tried again. Shepard watched them, almost able to feel Lenka sitting on her lap, giggling over the mess Mercy made. Her hands ached to stroke that narrow little back, still too skinny even after months of eating everything in sight. She closed her eyes, the child’ smell filling her nostrils; a cold, hollow sliver of loss burrowing into her heart as thin arms wrapped tight around her neck, so strong and so full of love. 

A warm, very present hand rubbed between her shoulder blades, and she opened her eyes, turning to give her husband a thin-lipped smile and a nod. She was okay. Sad almost to the point of suffocation, but okay. Strange how she’d never thought those two things could exist in the same place at the same time. Her whole adult life she’d been a person of absolutes. Absolutely sad or absolutely happy. Fearless or paralyzed with terror. Block one out to feel the other. Too bad life didn’t work that way.

She reached out and caressed Garrus’s fringe, her smile losing a little of the tightness as he pressed into her hand.

“Will you be able to join me to look at the house tomorrow?” Gira asked, her mandibles giving away her excitement as they fluttered. Her talons straightened her cutlery, lining everything up as precisely as possible, one of the elder female’s tells that she was worried or stressed.

Shepard nodded, letting her hand slide down to rest just inside the cowl of Garrus’s robe. “Sure. I just have a bunch of paperwork type stuff to do to get the foundation set up.”

Garrus cleared his throat. “Actually, I was hoping you and Mercy could come with me tomorrow.”

Turning to look into his eyes, Shepard let out a soft breath. “Okay.” She shook her head. “Well, I don’t want to go look at it without you anyway, so . . .” She looked back to Gira. “Could we go up just before dinner? It should still be light.”

The _tarin_ nodded. “That will be fine. It’s going to be beautiful. I’m so excited for you both to see it.”

Shepard reached out to squeeze Gira’s talons. “I know it will be. Thank you so much for all the work you’ve done getting it ready for us.” She leaned over next to the _tarin_ ’s aural canal. “But I think you and Dad need to say a few things before a certain son wonders where his father is going to live.” She chuckled and nodded to the perfectly aligned and centered articles in front of the female. “At least, if I’m reading your cutlery properly.”

Gira nodded, her mandibles fluttering a little. “How long have you known?”

“A few months.” Shepard shrugged. “And Garrus knows, he just hasn’t realized he does.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Sol asked, narrowing one eye. 

Shepard sighed and sat up, her hand moving from Garrus’s cowl to rub Mercy’s back as Garrus lifted the baby to cuddle against his chest. “New beginnings,” she said, smiling at her sister. 

“Speaking of,” Garrus said. “You, Kaidan, Dad, and Gira are coming to the reception after the swearing in?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Sol grumbled, making a show out of considering his question. Her talons drummed on the table a little. “It’s on a weekend, and Kaidan and I don’t get to see one another as much since he started obsessing over the academy.” Her head bobbed in a shrug. “Besides, it’s going to be boring.”

Shepard cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. “You’re so bad. Just put him out of his misery.”

Sol grinned and let out a huge half raspberry, half sigh. “Oh fine, I’ll go to your stupid, boring party, but I won’t dance.” She shook her head and crossed her arms, her chin jutting out defiantly. “You can’t make me dance.”

“No, but Kaidan will.” Shepard laid her hand over Garrus’s, squeezing his talons. “I swear, it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. One glance from those big brown eyes of his and tough ol’ Sol Vakarian turns to giggling mush.”

Sol glared across the table. “Be glad I can’t kick you from over here. I do not turn to mush.” She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Nor do I giggle.” Cutting her stare across the table to her father, Sol raised a brow plate. “But, if I did, and I’m not saying I do, I wouldn’t be the only one, would I, _pari_?”

Herros held up his hands. “Leave me out of this.”

Shepard pinned him with a thoughtful stare. “Now Sol mentions it . . .”

Gira laughed, soft and musical. “You two are as subtle as a drunken Yahg.”

“I’m lost, as usual,” Garrus sighed.

“Probably not as lost as you think.” Shepard squeezed his talons. “We’re just applying a lot of really not-so-subtle pressure on your _pari_.”

Herros let his head hang for a second, his shoulders heaving in an exaggerated sigh. “Very well.” He held his hand out to Gira, his mandibles fluttering. “As you know, Rossus and I swore _karifratrus_ when we were young soldiers.”

Garrus nodded, looking to Shepard, still confused. She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb and nodded toward his father.

“Your _mari_ has been gone for two cycles now, and since Rossus passed, Gira and I have been . . ..”

“Spirits, males make this painful,” Sol groaned. “Garrus, _Pari_ and Gira are together. He’ll be living here even once the rest of us move out.” She met her father’s glare and shrugged. “What? We would have still been here next week waiting for you to get it out.”

Herros closed his talons around Gira’s as the female placed her hand in his. “Sol is as correct as she is blunt.” 

Garrus nodded. “Oh, well, excellent. I thought you were going to hit us with bad news or something.” Looking over at Sol, he shook his head a little. “You could have let _Pari_ tell us. It was his chance to stand in our boots and explain that he was going to be living with a female. You robbed us of a chance to make him squirm that we’ll never get back.”

“Garrus,” Shepard scolded. “I think it’s brilliant. No two people deserve more happiness.”

Sol groaned. “I didn’t think of that.” Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “Why didn’t you stop me, Twig? Remember when he came home to chase off my academy graduation date?” She pinned her father with a sharp stare. “Every gun he owned laid out on the table in the common room. I had to take my older brother to my graduation party.” As she said the last, she lifted a brow plate, challenging Herros. 

“You have yet to thank me for that,” he replied, clearing his throat. “That young _torin_ was twitchy and strange. Very high strung.”

“Every gun you owned,” she protested. “The great heroes of old would have been twitchy dating the daughter of a male with such an obvious firearms fixation.” After a moment, her arms unfolded and she chuckled. “He was a little strange though. I asked him to be my date mostly because I knew it would make you crazy, and you’d come home to deal with me.”

Shepard watched her sister, a shudder of pain and sadness passing through her. Despite the tough face she showed to the galaxy, Sol had been just as hurt by her father’s absence as Garrus. At least Herros realized his mistakes in time to know his children as adults.

“All Sol’s indiscretion aside,” Garrus said, “I’m happy for you both. It’s what we fought for, all of us on our different fronts . . . this chance to be with people we love. Life’s too short to spend it alone.” Slipping his hand out from under Shepard’s, he reached across in front of her to take Gira’s hand. “I know he’ll be very happy, but if he doesn’t hold up his end, you just let us know. We’ll set him straight.”

Herros’s warm laugh eased Shepard down into her chair, breaking down her control over her exhaustion. Her muscles ached with it as if she were coming down with the flu. She grumbled under her breath. She better not be.

Garrus pulled back, running his hand over Shepard’s hair. “On this happy note, I’m going to take my ladies to bed,” Garrus said, settling Mercy in her recliner. 

Shepard nodded. “I’m tired, and we do have to be up early.” She leaned over to hug Gira. “I’m so glad for you and _Pari_. I love you.” 

“I love you too, beautiful girl.” Gira leaned close to Shepard’s ear. “I set out some oil to steep earlier. Take a few minutes to reconnect before you go to sleep.”

“Thank you.” She touched her brow to the _tarin_ ’s then stood. “Goodnight _Pari_. Goodnight Sol. Love you both.” She headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Part way through, her legs began to feel weak, her thigh muscles trembling. She sat on the toilet to finish. “You’ve got to start eating, Shepard,” she whispered. The weakness passed, so she washed her face and headed into their bedroom.

“There’s your _mari_ ,” Garrus called a few moments later when she walked into their bedroom. He looked up from where he was changing Mercy into her pyjamas. “Just in time for late night snack and story time.” 

“My favorite time of the whole day,” Shepard said. She climbed across the bed, piled her pillows up against the headboard and settled in, holding out her arms.

My favorite time of the whole day.

The fact it was true made up a huge part of why it hurt so badly. With the three of them cuddled together on the bed, the empty space where Lenka should be yawned all the wider. One she got Mercy settled, she beckoned to Garrus. “Come on, get your butt up here, Vakarian.”

While Mercy nursed, Garrus told them a story about one of the ancient turian heroes, Trillan Fralonis, who ended two hundred cycles of war between his father’s city and the neighboring one by redirecting the yearly mating migration of the _maraquil_ from the cliff heights to the neighboring city. Thousands of screeching, pooping, aggressive raptors roosting in every nook and cranny, quickly drove the people from their city.

“That’s so gross,” Shepard sighed. “Brilliant, but gross.”

Garrus nodded and nuzzled her neck. “Trillan’s father accepted their surrender and made them a camp to live in until the _maraquil_ headed back to the sea.”

Shepard turned to kissed his brow. “Got to love a _torin_ who uses the space inside his skull for more than holding his fringe up.” Mercy had fallen asleep tucked in against Shepard’s breast, so she eased herself off the bed to tuck the baby into her crib. “Sleep sweet, precious girl,” she whispered, kissing Mercy’s brow.

Turning from the crib, Shepard nodded to her husband. “Off with the robe, big guy.” Fetching the flask of oil Gira had left on one of the small tables, she moved back to the bed.

“Shepard, you don’t have to . . ..” He met her eyes, his shining with understanding. “I know you’re tired.”

A soft smile tugged at one corner of her mouth as she tilted her chin toward him. “Off with it, husband. I’ve been too tired for too long as it is, and so have you.” She lifted a knee to sit on the side of the bed in front of him. “Don’t think I didn’t see the cracks. You’ve been neglecting yourself almost as badly as I’ve been.” Shrugging out of her robe, she beckoned to him with one crooked finger. “Come on, let me do this.”

He sighed and stood to take off the robe, then sat facing her, one knee drawn up, mirroring her. A talon brushed the lines of her face before he offered her a small, fluttering smile. “I’ve missed your touch.”

She uncorked the flask and nodded toward the bed. “Then stop talking about it and lay down.” When he rolled over onto his front, propped up on his elbows, she straddled his hips. “You can make yourself useful and hold the oil.” She poured a thin trail over his cowl, then a small puddle into her hand. After passing him the flask, she rubbed her hands together then started massaging the oil into his hide. 

“Mmm.” He let his head hang, soft moans purring through his second larynx. 

His hide was so dried out from neglect that it absorbed the entire flask and still could have taken more, but by then, he lay sprawled on his back, sound asleep and snoring. Shepard finished rubbing down his feet, then crawled up to press a soft kiss to the upper plate of his mouth. 

“I love you,” she whispered, caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs. “You beautiful, impossible, stubborn, amazing _torin_.” She kissed him again, then slipped off the bed, covering him up before changing into her sleepwear.

After turning off the light, she walked to the window and looked out over the dark city, only Nanus peeking over the horizon, not yet high enough to splash it’s pale silver light over the rubble and new buildings.

“Wherever you are, baby girl,” Shepard whispered, “I hope you’re safe and well. Hang in there.” She reached up, her palm pressed to the warm glass. “Your daddy and I are searching for you, and we won’t ever give up.” A wavering sigh drifted between her lips as a vague achiness washed over her. “I love you and miss you so much. Sleep well, beautiful girl.”

Garrus rolled over, pulling her into his arms, when she slipped between the covers. Pressing against his length, she closed her eyes, allowing his warmth to seep into her, and fell asleep.

 

**July 29, 2188**

“Holy cow,” Shepard said, a low whistle following the words from her lips. “Look at this place.” She looked up, following the sweeping lines of the new government building. It sat dead center in the middle of Cipritine, soaring above the rest of the city core like a magnificent, multi-faceted jewel.

Garrus followed her out of the skycar and stepped up to her side. “It’s almost finished. They wanted to wait to have the confirmations and swearing of oaths until they completed construction.” 

Her husband’s arm wrapped warm and supportive around Shepard’s waist, guiding her toward the massive blue-silver glass and steel structure. “You’re looking . . . what’s the term . . . picked? . . . today. You feeling okay?”

Shepard chuckled. “I think you meant peaked, pale and tired.” She leaned into him a little. “I’m fine, just think I’m coming down with a cold. Medicine can bring me back from the dead, but still no cure for the common cold.” Meeting his concerned stare, she shrugged a little. “And a little sad. Running around like a crazy woman didn’t give me much time to be sad.” She stopped ten metres back and looked up at the building. “Wow. This is amazing.”

Panels along the front of the building depicted scenes from turian history realized in beautifully detailed cut glass. The panels on either side and over the doors showed the battles to save Palaven and other turian worlds from the Reapers. Shepard stared up at the meticulous, detailed work and shuddered.

“I don’t know how I feel about Reaper art,” she whispered. “There was nothing beautiful about those abominations, so this . . ..” She rubbed Mercy’s back through the wrap, looking down at her daughter, curled up with her ear over mother’s heart. Seeing the Reapers, even in that innocuous form filled her with a desolate chill, but she fought it off with her daughter’s beauty and warmth. As horrendous as the Reapers and the war were, without them, she probably never would have met Garrus and had the family that was growing out from that.

Garrus nodded and gave her a supportive squeeze. “Wait until you see the Chamber of the First Tier. I think you’ll appreciate the art there a little more.” 

She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s all beautiful, even those monstrosities. Palaven really has done what Sparatus said and made itself a beacon. I think we really need to encourage cultural identity and distinction during the rebuilding process.” 

He stepped up, activating the doors. “I thought Earth would end up being the new galactic hub, to be honest. With the Citadel in its orbit, it seemed a natural choice. Palaven has always kept itself isolated. In fact, I think that was part of the reason for the uprisings: the colonies, Taetrus especially, felt cut off and rejected by the homeworld.”

People going and coming called friendly greetings when they spotted Garrus and Shepard. As odd as it felt to have people behave in such a familiar manner, most of galaxy seemed to feel as though the two of them were old friends.

Shepard responded to greetings with nods and smiles. “Hmm, something to keep in mind as we all rebuild. Make sure that the colonies know that the homeworlds remember them both fiscally and in the more universal sense.” She stopped and looked up at the vaulted ceilings, her eye drawn up along the graceful, sweeping lines of the pillars and supports. “It just keeps getting more amazing.” 

Shaking her head in wonder, she addressed his earlier thought about Earth. “With Earth and Alliance losing their entire governments, they just aren’t able to step up to be the center of anything. We’ll be lucky to have viable governments in place within the next year. At least the turian colonies still have Adrien and the hierarchy to fall back on.”

“Yeah. Adrien is adamant about that not letting the colonies feel cut off or ignored. Until they’re ready to reform their own governments, he has them nominating hierarchs. He’s created portfolios to deal with the colonies as well. I’ll be heading the colonial rebuilding committee.” Garrus shook his head as if still not convinced he was becoming a politician.

Shepard smiled and ran her hand down his arm as she turned back to stare up at two massive figures wrought from silver-blue glass that stood just inside the main doors. Tendrils of gold worked their way through the spun glass that depicted two warriors locked in battle. Sword and pike clashed over Shepard’s head, framing the door.

She backed up to see the figures more clearly. “Is this _hyalus_?”

Garrus nodded and looked up as well. “These are the two most ancient surviving pieces. They’re more than 8,000 cycles old.”

“They’re spun glass, right? How the heck . . .? They’re six metres tall if they’re a centimetre.” Grinning, she shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“They’ve never been repeated. Even today’s masters of the art have no idea how they were made.” He shrugged. “One of our many mysteries.”

Shepard wrapped her arm around him. “You turians do love to be a mystery.”

“Speaking of mysteries, wait until you see the chamber.” His mandible fluttered in a teasing smile. “But that will have to wait a few days. I want you to see it . . ..” He shrugged and took her hand and led her toward an elevator. 

“You want me to see it in the moment, I understand.” She squeezed his hand. “You won’t mind having a hooting and hollering cheering section, will you? I might not be able to contain myself.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “That may be a first . . . a hierarch having his mate tossed out of the proceedings for creating a disturbance.” Bending down, he nuzzled her temple, warmth and love spreading through her from the contact. 

He sighed and pulled back. “I actually have to spend today hiring a staff. Do you mind sitting in and seeing what sort of feeling you get from them?” He winced and squeezed her fingers when she nodded. “I’d better get confirmed after all of this.” A helpless sort of shrug preceded hitting the elevator control. “What am I supposed to do with a staff?”

“Being confirmed is all but a done deal, Vakarian, and I imagine you’ll need them. Adrien’s given you what . . . four portfolios and at least two committees?” She stopped and tugged on his hand, turning him to face her. Meeting his eyes with a steady, serious gaze, she let out a long breath. “As long as this is what you want, Garrus. If you want to do something, anything, else, you just need to say the word. You know there is always a place at the academy for you . . . whatever.” She smiled, the warmth spreading and settling in her chest. “You are capable of anything. I know that you’ll be brilliant as a hierarch, but I don’t want you to feel like you’ve been roped into it, love.”

He stepped into the elevator and gave her a firm nod. “I know I can do some good here, Shepard. Adrien has brilliant, ambitious plans that will meet with a lot of resistance. I can help him overcome it.” Looking down on her, he smiled, a slight flutter of mandibles. “Something I’ve learned over the last year on the _Normandy_ is that your life is not defined by what you do while working, it’s defined by what is most important to you. Helping my home recover is important to me. Not as important as you and the girls, _Pari_ , and Sol, but important.”

She pressed in against his side. “You’re an amazing _torin_ , Hierarch Vakarian.” 

They exited the elevator on the top floor. Shepard stopped a few steps in and looked up into the impossibly intricate tangle of steel composite that supported the roof. It made her feel as if she was falling up into a massive fractal or mandala. Garrus tugged on her hand, pulling her from her contemplation -- almost meditation.

“If you ever lose me, this will be where you’ll find me, staring into the rafters like some sort of lunatic.” Shaking her head, she allowed him to move her along a wide hall. The walls harkened back to turian house interiors, plastered and washed in warm, earthy colours with stone trim. Unlike the domins she’d seen, however, the trim made up abstract patterns, like the frame Herros and Lenka made for their cabin, rather than scenes.

A large, carved door made out of the nearly black wood opened into a spacious, six-sided office. In the center, a wooden desk took up almost a third of the floor space. Four interior doors, each just as beautifully detailed as the next opened into three offices and a conference room. A few large, comfortable chairs and side tables lined the walls between the doors. Every piece looked as though it had seen at least five centuries of dedicated and loving care.

“The back door is to my security detail’s office,” Garrus said, seeming almost embarrassed. “Adrien wants me to hire three more dedicated to me and six more for the house, you, and the kids.” He shook his head. “So many people to follow around two people of the most deadly people in the galaxy.”

Shepard nodded. “I know it seems excessive, but when it comes to you and the kids, I’m all for it. Better safe than sorry. I have to find someone to watch Mercy during the day when classes start at the academy, and you can bet your ass they’ll be a commando or something.” She shrugged. “I wonder if Samara is looking for work.”

He stepped to the first door on the left. “This is my office.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I have an office.”

Shepard walked through the door and smiled. “Wow, you sure do. It’s amazing.” Just as beautiful as the building, the office was filled with antique furniture and a couple of very comfortable looking couches. She settled herself on one. “I’ve found my spot.”

She burrowed into the soft cushions and watched her husband try to find himself in his new space. He sat at the desk, rifled through the drawers, woke up his computer and then looked over at her and shrugged, his mandibles dropping.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

She chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Where’s my desk?” Barl asked, sticking his head in the door.

“Back room,” Garrus answered. “The one with the sturdiest chair.”

The krogan let out a noise that could have been laughter or a growl and pulled back. “I doubt they make any that can withstand me for very long.”

Shepard stood and followed him as he withdrew through the door. “I’ll help you pick one.” 

Again, his harsh laugh rolled through the space, echoing off walls and surfaces that desperately needed the baffling effect of habitation and all the detritus that went along with it. “You don’t really want to help me pick out a desk, do you, Missus?”

“Sure I do.” She herded him toward the office that Garrus had pointed out. “It’s just not all I want to do.” Once they were through the door, she closed it.

Barl walked over to the first desk and sat on the edge. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and waited for her.

“You need to be his shadow, Barl. I don’t care if he tells you to check on me, or to get coffee or whatever. You have one job, and that’s bringing my husband home every night.” She hitched Mercy a little further up her shoulder and perched on the nearest chair. 

“He’s not going to make that easy. You know that.” He met her gaze with a weary sort of openness. “He’s used to being the gun hand.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but that’s why I’m glad he’s got you. You have a thousand years of dealing with a lot worse than him under your belt.” Her brows pulled in and down toward her nose. “I intend to have a small herd of children with that _torin_ once we get Lenka back and get settled. I intend to build a big, beautiful life centered around him.” A long, soft sigh drifted between them. “Are you able to see where I’m coming from?”

Barl nodded. “I am, and I’ll do my best to make sure that little one and the ones to come have a father.” He shrugged, massive shoulders heaving like a mountain erupting. “But, he’s the boss.”

“True.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “But of the two of us, I’m the more likely to eviscerate you. Just remember that.” She softened the threat with a smile. “Where do you live?”

“So you can sneak up on me in my sleep?” He frowned, looking as though he suspected her of setting him up. “In the barracks with my old unit.”

“If I had an apartment built in the basement of our domin, would you live in it?” She looked down as Mercy woke up and began to wriggle around. Shepard extricated her from the wrap and kissed her. “Well hello there, my little biscuit. Was it getting warm in there, or are you just looking for a snack?” Looking up at Barl, Shepard cocked an eyebrow, asking for an answer.

“Why? You just looking to make sure you’ve got an extra gun handy?” He crossed his arms, his whole manner as rigid as it was relaxed the moment before.

Shepard shook her head and stood. “No.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “I think you need to be connected to something. You’ve had a thousand years to perfect being the lone warrior, and something tells me that it doesn’t cut it any more.” She walked over to him and looked him in the eye. “I’m offering you a chance to be part of a family, Barl. It’s up to you whether or not you take it.” Punching his shoulder, she gave him a crooked smile. “Either way, I’m trusting you to take my place at Garrus’s back.” 

She walked to the door, turning back with her hand on the control. “Oh, and use that chair over in the corner. It doesn’t roll around or anything, but is big and comfortable looking. It should last you.”

“Is Barl terrified of you, now?” Garrus asked when she walked back into his office.

Shepard shook her head and settled herself and Mercy back on the couch. “Of course not. I helped him pick out a good chair.”

A tentative knock at the outer door cut off his answer to that, and he had to settle for giving her a suspicious glare on his way to usher in the first office manager candidate.

After she went through the reports of every agent Liara, Adrien, Hackett and she had dedicated to the task of finding Lenka, Shepard spent the day working on organizing the groundwork for the From Ashes Foundation. The massive amount of money she’d syphoned off from the Apostles sat in a holding account. She wanted it to do something great with it, but she had yet to figure out what. First, she and Liara needed to build a legal foundation. The Shadow Broker had located a team of her old lawyers on Illium once the comms came back up. Barla Von, the canny little fellow, had survived the war as well and was looking for places to invest the foundation’s funds as soon as Shepard sorted things. 

“Well?” Garrus asked as he reentered the office after escorting the last office manager candidate out the door.

“I got a really good feeling from the second asari and the one turian . . ..” She squinted, trying to recall the female’s name. “Darana?” Shepard nodded thoughtfully. “I can see her keeping your butt kicked into line.”

Garrus shook his head. “Hmm. Yeah, I see your criteria now. Good thing you didn’t handle the posting. I’d have krogan office managers waiting in a line all the way out the building.” He yawned and stretched, leaning back in his chair. “I liked Darana too. She seemed to have an open mind, probably from attending universities on both Thessia and Earth.” He called up her CV on the datapad. “Is Harvard a good school?”

Shepard shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve heard some good things.” After a second, she laughed. “Yes, it’s one of the best schools on the planet.” The laugh turned to a frown. “Why does she want to work for you with such a stellar education?” 

He shrugged. “I’ll call her and your other choice back later in the week after we’ve had time to put together some more questions?”

Shepard started to answer, but the first of the security potentials knocked on the door.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“The gardens have to go in yet. Any requests?” Gira called from the back seat of the car.

“Rylamia for sure,” Shepard replied without even needing to think. “And lots of shade. Lenka won’t have any protection from the sun, and she’ll want to be able to play with her brothers and sisters outside.” She reached over to the driver’s side of the car for Garrus’s hand. “And then, whatever Garrus’s mom had planted. Make it as much like it was while still having shade.”

Garrus turned his hand over to hold hers. “That sounds really good.” He smiled. “She had a seating area up on the higher section with these big, comfortable couches. We’d sprawl across them in the evenings, drink _puala_ nectar, and tell her about our day.” He parked the car on the double patch of tarmac and popped the top. 

Shepard stayed seated for a moment. Just after lunch a vague ache had settled into her gut. Maybe she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her, maybe she really was coming down with the flu. She pushed the queasiness aside with a deep breath.

“You coming, Shepard?” he called from the front door.

She climbed from the car, plastering a smile on her face. “I sure am. Can’t wait to see it.”

Gira led the way from the skycar to the front door. Shepard had seen the outside from a distance, it was easily seen from Gira’s back garden, but up close she could see the cut glass detail around the edges of the large windows along the front. Shaking her head, she reached back to squeeze the elder female’s hand, gratitude filling her with warmth. 

Opening the front door, Gira stepped back, motioning for Shepard to walk through first. 

She made it five paces, slowing a little more with each step until she ground to a halt, mouth open, trying to look everywhere at once. “Oh my god,” she whispered, holding her hand out for Garrus’s. “It’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen.”

The walls of the common areas had all been washed a warm, golden-hued dark cream. Along the bottom half metre of the walls and _caman_ , wild horses frolicked across prairies and woodlands. Some ran, others grazed, still others bucked and reared. “How . . .?”

A wide smile making her eyes shine and her mandibles flick, Gira nodded toward Garrus. “He said you liked horses and sent me pictures.”

Shepard finally managed to make her legs work again and wandered into the _caman_ , running her free hand over the counters. Much more like a human kitchen than Gira’s, the room still managed to retain the simple warmth. “I can’t wait to see it with your _mari_ and _pari_ ’s legacy furnishing it.” It filled her with a simple but profound gratitude to see the subtle hints of human influence. It was a home designed to make both its turian and human inhabitants comfortable.

Garrus nodded, his eyes glassy. 

“You see it, don’t you?” she whispered, wrapping her arm around him. “The table over there, covered in homework and toys. Dinner smoking in the sink while one of us calls for take out.”

Another silent nod met her question. After a moment, he sighed. “Especially the burned dinner part.”

“Yeah. We need to learn to cook.” Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard caught a flash of movement, a shrill giggle cutting through the silence. Lenka raced through, glancing behind and squealing as she raced away from someone.

“There are two bathrooms on this floor and two upstairs,” Gira said, breaking apart the ghosts as she started down the hall. 

They followed, checking out the bathroom, office and second bedroom, but they didn’t grind to a halt again until they stepped into the master bedroom. Taking up almost a quarter of the first floor, it boasted its own bathroom, two massive closets and bookshelves along one wall. The walls reflected the light of early evening off the dark green wash, the carved doors gleaming warm and welcoming in that same soft glow.

Shepard hugged Garrus tight, the part of her the batarians had cut loose to drift nearly twenty years earlier, settling back into place. As it did, the black hole stretched and yawned, spitting out an obsidian splinter that sliced straight through her heart.

_Just settle right in, forget Lenka ever existed._

Shepard closed her eyes and leaned into Garrus, fighting to shove the hopelessness that slithered through her back down into the hole. Moving into their home didn’t mean leaving Lenka behind. It didn’t.

They’d settle in, prepare Lenka’s room, and have somewhere beautiful to bring her home to. The snakes ignored her, wrapping their gelid, clammy bodies around her heart. 

Garrus let out a sigh. “Everything is for her and Mercy, Shepard. Not to leave her behind, but to have a life for her to return to.”

Shepard nodded and pulled back. “It’s beautiful and perfect.” She forced a smile through the vague ache in her belly. “Let’s get back. I’m tired.” Her legs trembled slightly as she wrapped an arm around him and returned to the car.


	6. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threads began to weave together. A tour of the academy grounds leads to the unexpected.

**July 31, 2188**

Shepard slipped around the edge of one massive door, pausing to gawk as she stepped into the academy’s starship hangar. She covered her ears and winced at the tumult that echoed around the massive building and sliced through her head. Drills and saws whined, metal hammered off metal, and she was pretty sure a jackhammer added its special music to the cacophony. “So, we’ll be able to fit a cruiser in here when it’s finished?” she yelled over the din.

Herros nodded and handed her a set of headphones. When she settled them over her ears, she let out a long sigh of relief. “Oh yeah.” She laughed. “That’s the stuff.”

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Yes, a small cruiser or three frigates will fit in here at once. We’ll be able to not only teach every aspect of engineering from concept to practice, we’ll be able to maintain the academy’s fleet in-house.” He led her up a flight of stairs just inside the door, away from the construction and into a viewing gallery.

Halfway up, a wave of dizziness and nausea blasted over Shepard. She clutched the railing, leaning against it until she fought it off. Ahead, Herros turned back, so she forced a smile and trotted up the last dozen steps, her legs trembling the entire way.

“Why didn’t we do this twenty cycles ago?” Shepard asked as she reached the top. “Even with all the races having to scavenge and scrape to put this place together, it’s so much better than any one of us had before.” She walked to the railing at the edge of the glassed-in balcony and looked out over the massive maintenance bay. “I can’t wait to get cadets in here.” In truth, the complete ship-freak in her couldn’t wait to see a cruiser being maneouvered in through the retractable roof. Huge docking clamps were installed along the walls to keep the ships from touching ground.

“One day, we’ll be able to build an orbital shipyard,” Herros said. Shepard grinned at the glow that accompanied his words. He gave her a sheepish little shrug and turned toward the far side of the building. “Come, I’ll show you to your classrooms.” He nodded toward the door at the far end of the balcony. At the exit, he took back the headphones, hanging them from a rack on the wall.

They walked out into a wide, glass-walled corridor that stretched from the hangar to the top floor of a five storey building fifty metres away. The enormity of what had grown out of her conversation with Garrus all those months ago overwhelmed her. 

_“You know, every race is going to be rebuilding their military with barely any resources. The fleets are ragtag at best ... facilities are blown to hell .... What if we created a galactic military academy? All the races could pool their resources to build one facility, and the recruits could train with instructors from every race.”_

And there it stood before her eyes. Over two thousand applications had been received, and in a few short months, cadets from all the different worlds would arrive to fill the dorms and classrooms.

Pausing halfway along the walkway, she gazed across the massive campus. Eight identical buildings formed a square around two twenty-storey barracks. A hideth turram pitch and other recreational fields stretched from the campus almost to the river banks. The last building, a huge, oval work of art housed indoor rec facilities including swimming pools, climbing walls, ball courts and gym facilities.

“So this is just one of the engineering buildings?” she asked, glancing over at Herros.

“Yes. The building at the entrance is administration.” He pointed as he spoke. “Biotics in the ones next to the gym, for obvious reasons. The ones on the river corner are Firearms and Munitions. The armory and ranges are across the river. Don’t want to blow the entire place if there’s an accident.” He chuckled then paused, appearing to backtrack. “I heard from an asari matriarch today about heading up the biotics program. She said you know her. Matriarch Aethyta?”

Shepard grinned and nodded. “Yeah, I know her. She’s Liara’s father, in fact. Tough as nails, practical, and a forward thinker. I think she’ll be great.” She leaned against the railing that ran the length of the walkway, the muscles in her thighs and back trembling as the nausea returned, her stomach aching. She’d been trying eat better and sleep more, but she supposed it would take more than a couple of days to come all the way back. If it got any worse, she’d be forced to go see Dr. Chakwas and get something.

“Jane? You all right?” Herros pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. “You’re looking pale today.”

She smiled and turned back toward their destination. “Yeah, I just ran the crap out of myself over the past month. Not eating enough or sleeping enough. It’ll get better as I do better.” Slipping her arm through his, she leaned into him a little. “Come on, let’s go see where the magic will happen.”

“You have two classrooms and two labs with an office in between them, so you will be a little land unto yourself.” He opened the doors at the end of the walkway and there, in front of her stood a door that proclaimed in brass letters that it belonged to _Rear Admiral Jane Shepard-Vakarian, Vice-Commandant, Chair of Engineering._

“I guess they won’t have trouble finding me.” She chuckled, reaching out to run her fingers over her hyphenated family name. “And I love Shepard-Vakarian.” She hit the door control and walked into a decent sized reception area with large, deep chairs and a desk area for her assistant. “Wow, this is great. I’ll be glad of the assistant. Has one been hired or is that my first task?”

“First task. As Vice-Commandant and Department Chair you’re going to have a great many administrative tasks, so I wanted to be sure you had someone you felt good about working with. If you find you need two, as we won’t have advanced students to assign as teaching assistants for a cycle, let me know. There’s a file on your computer of applications and inquiries. You should get right on hiring. We need to get the instructors hired in the next month so they have time to finalize course syllabi and prepare their materials.” 

He strode across to the second door and opened it, revealing a modern, modestly appointed office. “I thought I would leave individualizing the space to you.”

Shepard followed him in and looked around the mostly empty space. A blank slate for a new career. A foreign feeling swelled in her chest, tingling down into her arms as she mentally laid her new office over her desk on the _Normandy_. Part homesickness, part excitement, the sensation ached a little, but it also whispered promises of unlimited possibilities. She stepped up to the metal desk that stood in the center, trailing her fingers along the edge. A comfortable enough looking chair was the only other piece of furniture in the room. “I take it there is a repository of all things furniture-related somewhere?”

She held her hands up, framing the back wall between the windows. “The case for my model ships goes right there.” She grinned, hoping he didn’t see through the levity that covered the fact she felt as though someone had reached inside and grabbed a handful of her guts. 

Chuckling, he jutted his chin toward the computer. “There’s a database of furnishings. Just send in a requisition. Kaidan and Lt. Cortez are working on making sure all the offices, classrooms and dorms are furnished and supplied. I have no idea how they’re doing it, but they’re much further ahead than I thought they’d be.” He opened a side door into a lecture theatre big enough to hold one hundred cadets. “There’s another like this on the other side.”

Shepard wrapped an arm around her stomach as she looked through the door at the neat, semi-circular rows of desks set in elevated tiers. Damn, the stupid flu bug would not be denied. Stumbling a little as she turned, she walked over to her chair and sat down. The ache settled into her lower abdomen, vague but spreading out in hot tendrils of pressure.

Herros scowled and followed her. “I don’t think this is just a case of not enough sleep, Jane.” He crouched in front of her. 

“I’ve been fighting off a flu or something. I rarely get sick -- it’s the combination of implants and ornery -- so I’m probably just being a wimp.” She tried to smile, to reassure him, but the hand holding her guts began to twist.

“Come on, we’ll check out the hospital and see how Karin is settling in.” He half-lifted her out of the chair, his demeanour telling her he’d brook no argument. “She can make an example out of you. She tells me that all she sees any more are crushed fingers and other workplace injuries. You can be her first stomach ache.”

Shepard leaned on his arm a little harder than she meant to, her legs more wobbly than they’d been before she sat down. “Excellent. Nothing like a case of, I accidentally ate some of my husband’s breakfast to spice up a day.”

Herros frowned. “Do you think that could have happened?”

“Not unless I messed something up. Gira made breakfast this morning, and she’s so careful that she cooks mine first, washes everything and then makes yours. She’s afraid of putting the utensils in both.” At the end of the hall, they took an elevator to the first floor. Conveniently, the hospital stood right next door on the river side of the campus. A beautiful work of architecture, it blended both turian and asari sensibilities in a graceful, state-of-the-art structure that took Shepard’s breath away. 

It had taken Shepard, Herros, and Kaidan working tag team to convince Dr. Chakwas to accept the position of Chief of Staff. She insisted that she wanted to stay mobile, but once Herros and Kaidan promised her that she could still ship out with the _Normandy_ whenever it left port, the feisty doctor relented. 

“What did you eat?” the doctor called across the hospital lobby, yanking Shepard from her thoughts . Hurrying over, she pried open Shepard’s eyelids. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Shepard did as she was told, feeling more than a little silly being treated like a kindergartener sent to the nurse’s office. She glanced around, nodding awkwardly to the people watching then leaned in and whispered, “Couldn’t we do this somewhere the entire city can’t see the Vice-Commandant being treated like a little kid?”

“Hm.” The doctor nodded toward the door to the triage area. “Come with me.”

Shepard followed, glaring at the back of the doctor’s head. Chakwas made no secret of the fact that she considered them all her children, but she didn’t need to demonstrate it so obviously. Shepard wrapped an arm around her belly, giving Herros a grateful, if tight smile as he slipped a supportive arm under hers.

Herros didn’t ask or hesitate before following them through the doors and down a corridor lined with treatment rooms. Shepard pulled away from him a little and straightened as curious eyes watched them pass.

Karin preceded them into a room across from a nursing station and pointed toward a gurney in the center of the room. “Jump up on the table for me,” Karin said, activating her omnitool. “You look like you ate something dextro. Are you sure that you didn’t use the wrong utensil? Anything?”

Shepard walked into the room, eyeing the gurney as if she expected it to attack. “No.” She grunted, the pain getting worse. “Gira is really careful about that stuff.” Pressing her fist into her stomach, she fought off the sudden urge to heave up her breakfast.

“And have you and Garrus been sexually active?” She glanced up from her omnitool and cleared her throat. “There’s no chance you could have ingested anything?”

“No! Good lord, Doc. Think you could broadcast that any louder? ” Shepard glanced toward the still open door, a heavy blush crawling up her neck. Where was a meteorite or a falling piano when she needed one?

“Probably, but I thought the billboard bordered on bad taste.” Chakwas stepped up beside her and nodded at the table. “Up.” Once Shepard settled on the narrow bed, still grumbling, the doctor swept her omnitool over Shepard from head to toe. 

For her part, Shepard continued to glare at the doctor. Ingest something . . .. For pity’s sake.

The doctor made a small, worried, frustrated noise and paused to fiddle with the settings. “Shepard,” she asked, her voice low and concerned, “when was the last time you and Garrus had intercourse?”

Shepard hissed between her teeth, a heavy flush of blood prickling under her skin. “What the heck, Doc?”

But then Karin looked up, meeting her eyes with an expression as grave as Shepard had ever seen, silencing her protests instantly. “Shepard. When?”

The admiral sat up, her heart hammering in her chest. She shook her head. “Um . . . I don’t know, a month ago. We had sex the night before we arrived on Palaven.”

“Okay.” Chakwas looked away, playing with the omnitool for another moment before doing a second sweep.

“Um, Doc, now you’re scaring the crap out of me. What’s going on?” Shepard let her old friend push her back down onto the pillow. Her hands trembled as she reached out to clamp onto one of Karin’s.

“Unprotected?” the doctor asked instead of answering. She lifted a hand to her ear. “Liara. Yes, fine, thank you. Do me a favour, please? Go into my lab at the back of med bay. Look in the freezer. There’s a container with Shepard’s name on it. Look inside, tell me how many vials.” She paused, turning to stare into Shepard’s eyes, concern meeting the admiral’s dawning understanding. “No, leave the channel open. I’ll wait.”

To Shepard, she asked again. “Was it unprotected?”

Nodding, Shepard swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat. “Yeah. There’s no reason for us to use protection.” She shook her head. The room around her gleamed too bright, too white. She squinted against the glare that felt like splinters in her eyes and temples. “No, Doc. There’s something screwy with your omnitool. There’s no way I can be pregnant.”

“Have you menstruated since?” Karin squeezed the hand gripping hers.

Shepard thought for a moment. “No, but I’ve been stressed and not eating. It’s not uncommon for me to skip months under those circumstances. I think I was only on schedule once or twice between Saren and the end of the war.”

Chakwas alerted to her radio. “Four?” She shook her head. “No. No, thank you, Liara. That’s exactly the number there should be.” She paused and looked Shepard in the eye. “I don’t know yet. Thank . . ..” She sighed. “I’m sure Shepard will let people know if there’s a problem. Thank you, Liara.” Pause. “Thank you, Chakwas out.”

“I can’t be pregnant, Doc,” Shepard repeated. “I’ve slept with one man, my husband, and we’re as genetically incompatible as it gets.”

Karin closed her omnitool and squeezed Shepard’s hand. “Call Garrus, Shepard. I’ve got a lot of tests and scans to order.” She picked up a datapad off the desk, then turned back. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out, dear friend. We always do.” She smiled. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.” At the door, Karin touched Herros’s arm and nodded toward the gurney. 

_Subtle,_ Shepard thought, then sighed. _But appreciated._

Shepard swallowed her fear, taking a couple of shaky breaths. Still, her hand didn’t lift to her ear, a grey, surreal fog creeping through her thoughts. How could it have even happened? She pressed both hands over her lower stomach. If she was pregnant and her belly hurt like it did, it could only mean one thing.

“Jane,” Herros said, laying his hand over hers. “Call Garrus.” He reached up with the other hand, his talons brushing her hair around her ear. “Just ask him to come because you’re not feeling well.”

She looked up into his eyes for a moment, then frowned and nodded. “Yeah.” She opened a channel. 

“Hey there,” Garrus said. “How goes the tour?” 

Her husband’s voice pushed back the fog a little, the warm undertones like gentle fingers trailing down her spine. “Um, it was going fine. I got a belly ache part way through, so _Pari_ brought me over to see Karin. Are you . . .?”

“I knew you looked worse this morning. Damn.” She could hear him thumping around on his end. “Barl! We’re leaving.” More thumping. “I’m already on my way. See you in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She swallowed and nodded, holding fast to her calm. He didn’t need to know how strange everything had turned until he arrived to deal with it. “See you soon. I love you.”

He hesitated and cleared his throat. She winced, knowing he heard some bleed-through. “And I love you. I’ll be right there.”

Shepard gave Herros a thin smile. “He was on his way before I finished my sentence.” She took a deep breath and leaned back, her mind racing. “This is crazy, right? It’s impossible.” She sat back up, moving to sit on the side of the bed -- she needed to move, to do something, anything -- but Herros reached out and stopped her. The black hole at her center yawned and stretched, reaching eager tendrils out to caress her fear and anger, coaxing her to fall back into the comfortable oblivion of denial and frenetic action.

“Jane, just keep as still and calm as you can.” He ran a soothing hand down her arm to take her other hand, holding them in a loose jumble. “I know you’re scared and confused, but this isn’t something you can jump up and run out to fix.” He touched his brow to hers. “Just breathe. Dr. Chakwas will figure it out.” He straightened and shrugged. “As for it being impossible, the Apostles did meddle with your genes, using the pertexan DNA to graft turian traits.”

“To give me radiation protection that I’m not even sure took because my skin is the same pasty pink it was before. It doesn’t feel different. Mercy is a human with turian radiation protection and it shows.” She shook her head then let it flop back against the pillow, taking long, slow breaths to keep a tight grip on her emotions. The black hole couldn’t be allowed to steal her reason. 

“Even if they did manage to graft radiation protection to my DNA,” she continued, her whisper, the tight rustle of dry twigs, “that’s a far cry from making me reproductively compatible.” Letting out a short, decisive breath, she shook her head. “It’s got to be wrong, _Pari_. Maybe I have a growth or something that’s sending a false positive. Those actually happen.”

Karin returned, followed by a female turian in a nursing uniform. She held the door for the turian, closing it soundly behind them. 

“Hello, Admiral,” the pleasant-looking, matronly _tarin_ said. “My name is Milar, and I’ll be your nurse.” Milar’s concerned, professional tone broke through Shepard’s confusion, providing her with a calm, stable anchor that had no vested interest in coddling or sheltering her. 

After a moment, the nurse held out her talons as if ushering Shepard off the bed. “First of all, let’s make you more comfortable.” When Shepard just stared at her, she waved the admiral up. “Come on, we’ll get you into a gown and under some warm blankets.”

“Okay.” She smiled but waved off Milar’s offered hand, swinging her legs off the gurney. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“Hold on. Wait just a second, Admiral.” Milar hurried to the door, all brisk efficiency. She hung a gown and robe over the one end of the bed, then turned to Herros, her arms crossing over her chest. “Father-in-law?”

Shepard watched him stifle a smile as his brow plates rose. “Yes.”

Milar waved a hand toward the door. “Go on. I’ll call you when you can come back in.” When he didn’t move, she made as if to remove him.

“Go on, _Pari_. I’m sure it’ll just be a minute.” Shepard reached back, stroking a hand down his forearm. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be at the lobby doors if you need me.” His eyes locked in on the nurse’s in an open challenge, he leaned in to nuzzle Shepard’s temple before turning to the door. “I’ll wait for Garrus and bring him back when he arrives.”

“Thanks.” Shepard slid off the table as he left the room. She peeled off her clothes and threw them over the bed. “So what’s the plan, Doc?” 

_That’s right,_ the black hole whispered. _Take charge, keep talking and moving. Don’t stop long enough to let yourself think or feel. You might want to try a joke, push the fear away, trivialize it._

Karin smiled. “Tests for now. Try to figure out exactly what’s going on in there.” She returned to her datapads. “I’m just about ready here, how are you doing?”

Shepard pulled the gown up her arms, fastening it behind her back. “I’m freaking out a little because of this whole turian husband knocked me up thing, but other than that, things are good. You know.” A heavy frown creased her forehead, carving valleys of shadow around her eyes and mouth as well. Reaching out, she braced a hand on the table and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. She’d promised Garrus and Mercy that she wouldn’t go back there. More importantly, she’d promised herself.

Regaining control, she opened her eyes. She shrugged the robe around her but hesitated before lying back down, her eyes on the door.

“I’m sure your mate will be here any minute,” Milar said, stepping up to the bedside. “Come, let’s get you covered up and warm.” Taking Shepard’s hand, she helped her sit on the side of the bed. “You’re all right, Admiral,” Milar said, her voice reassuring and low enough to remain between them. She smiled and raised the head of the bed. “There, you’ll feel better sitting up for now.”

Shepard gave the _tarin_ a tight, grateful smile and settled herself on the thin mattress. Milar pulled the sheet up, then covered her in two warmed blankets. 

“Mmmm.” Shepard smiled. The muscles in the center of her back burned as she relaxed, complaining about how hard she’d been clenching them. “Thank you, that feels wonderful.”

“As soon as Dr. Chakwas is finished poking you, I’ll bring you something to sip on. You look as though your blood sugar is low.” The nurse patted Shepard’s hand and stepped back out of the way.

Shepard leaned back and closed her eyes, the heat from the blankets soaking into her tired and sore body. “Thank you.”

“All right, Shepard,” Karin said, walking up beside her. “I’m going to draw blood and take a DNA swab, then I’m going to do a more precise scan.” A neutral smile and a comforting hand on her shoulder accompanied the doctor’s warm professionalism, but their years together had proven a keen tutor. Shepard could see her friend’s confusion and worry through the veneer as she drew several vials of blood.

She heard Garrus’s boots on the floor in the corridor even before she heard either he or Herros talking. Her heart sped up, some of the feeling returning to her hands and feet as the sound of his strong, steady stride pushed back the cold limbo. 

Milar must have seen her perk up, because the nurse smiled. “Mate just arrived?”

Shepard smiled and nodded. Looking up into Garrus’s eyes as the nurse opened the door, she reached out for him. He hurried over, taking her hands and leaning in to nuzzle her brow. She leaned into the contact, some of her steel returning as the Vakarian half of Shepard-Vakarian wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Whatever happened, they’d get through it. They always did.

Pulling away a little, she looked into his eyes. “You must have broken some new skycar speed records.”

He nodded and looked around, his grip on her fingers tightening a little more as the seconds passed. “What’s going on?” Leaning over, he peered at the line of vials. “This looks like more than the flu.” 

“Here, take a seat,” Milar offered, pushing a chair up behind him.

Garrus looked down at it, his posture and stare wary. “I’m going to need to sit?”

Shepard reached up to caress his face. “Yeah, you probably should.” She waited until he perched on the edge of the chair and took her hands again. “Karin thinks I’m pregnant, and that I got pregnant the old fashioned way.”

His face screwed into a frown. “Pregnant?” He shook his head, the scowl deepening. “But we can’t . . . we’re not . . ..” He sputtered to a halt and stared into her eyes for long seconds. “And, it’s not one of Mordin’s gifts? But then . . . it has to be something else, because you wouldn’t . . ..”

Shepard nodded. “No, Garrus, I’d never be with anyone else.” Squeezing his hands, she shrugged and sighed. “That’s why it’s so crazy.”

“But that’s impossible.” He turned to look at Karin. “It’s impossible.”

The doctor rolled the scanner over. “Well, let’s lay you back, Shepard, and find out.” She lowered the head of the bed and helped Shepard get comfortable. After positioning the scanner, she turned it and her omnitool on.

Shepard studied the doctor’s face, waiting for even the slightest tell, as Karin adjusted, keyed things into both the machine and her omnitool, then adjusted again. When Shepard started to feel dizzy, she realized that she’d been holding her breath and let it out, slow and shaky. Garrus just kept staring at her stomach as if he expected something to leap out at him. She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb, his tension and confusion radiating from him in waves.

“Please don’t torment us with your usual coy showmanship,” Shepard whispered.

Karin shook her head and swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t do that, Shepard.” She sighed and leaned back. “You’re definitely pregnant. Just over four weeks.” A sad shake of her head said everything before she spoke. “Your body is rejecting the child. To tell you anything more, I need to take samples and film what is going on inside you on a microscopic level.” She reached up and laid her hand over Shepard’s. “It’s going to be a few hours before we have any answers. You’re going to have to stay very still while the microscopic scanner is recording.”

Shepard listened, watching Karin’s lips intently, not quite sure if she was actually hearing the words the doctor said. A thousand questions leaped into the silence that followed. The most important forced its way to the fore. “Will I lose the baby before you’re finished with your tests?” 

She looked to Garrus, then back. “Is there some way we can stop that happening?”

“Shepard.” Karin closed her eyes for a moment, then patted her hand. “It’s probably best if we let nature take its course.”

“Nature? Nature has taken its course.” She took a couple of slow deep breaths, forcing herself to relax. Channeling the air down into the black hole, muffling its howls, she loosened her death grip on Garrus’s hand. She wasn’t going to make the neighbourhood any more inviting by giving in to the anger and fear.

“Shepard.” Garrus’s voice and talons caressed her softly. 

She leaned into him, grateful for the comfort as she fought to keep herself on an even keel. She needed calm, rational strength. She couldn’t let herself slide backward into the mess of rage and helplessness she’d been mired in just a couple of days earlier. Pulling away just far enough to look into his eyes, she whispered, “Tell me your first reaction isn’t to do whatever we have to do to protect this baby.”

“Of course it is, unless it means risking you.” He stroked the inside of her wrist. “Let’s get the tests started. The longer we talk . . ..”

She nodded, the resolve she’d been looking for beginning to crystallize somewhere deep inside. “Yeah. Let’s get moving, Doc. We need information and fast.” Reaching up, she caressed her husband’s face and neck. “I guess I was wrong that night in London.”

“Biology still doesn’t appear to be cooperating, Shepard. Let’s wait and see what’s going on.” He rolled up close to her head and pressed his mouth against her brow. “If there’s a risk to you, you know I have to choose you.” He nuzzled her skin, his warm breath easing her down into the bed. “You have to choose you as well, Shepard. We have two girls who need you.”

Shepard opened her mouth, but ended up closing it again as the M word tried to force its way out. No, she couldn’t use that word until Karin told her what the tests said. No more than she could bear to see the scans. Not if it was all for nothing. 

“I’m going to give you a sedative to help keep you still.” The blade of Karin’s hand cut off Shepard’s protest even before she got a sound out. “The sedative contains a muscle relaxant and a nerve block. It won’t cause any harm and may actually slow down the spontaneous abortion.” The doctor reached up and squeezed Shepard’s shoulder; the kind concern in the older woman’s eyes felt like nettles. It was a funerary gaze, all condolences and apologies. “Sleep if you can, it’s going to take a while to get everything done.” She pressed the syringe to Shepard’s neck. With a hiss and a slight sting, the dice flew through the air and rattled across the table, just like that.

Fight burst to life inside her. No! Nothing was decided. Balak thought he could impose his insanity on her, but nature and her body had taken matters into their own hands. The rebellion couldn’t be allowed to die just as it began. 

_It won’t happen._

Absolute certainty raced through her veins and sizzled along every nerve ending a split second ahead of the drugs, settling her fear. Pulse slowing, breath deepening, she looked into Garrus’s eyes and smiled.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, her thoughts blurring at the edges. “Don’t worry.” 

He smiled, a soft flutter of his mandibles as he nodded, then leaned in to slip his arm under her and rest his head next to hers. “Get some sleep, Shepard.”

Try as she might, her eyes refused to stay open, and her voice unravelled, the frayed ends burrowing down deep inside her throat. Explanations of her certainty disappeared into the well of sleep, landing with a splash beside her as the fathomless waters closed over her head, warm and sweet as a summer rainstorm.

* * * * *

“I suppose it was getting to be about time for a visit from the friendly neighbourhood ghoul,” Shepard sighed as she stepped out of the trees and looked around the slick surfaces of the Crucible. “Maybe next time you could spring for a nice cafe, maybe a decent restaurant?” Despite the confidence in her words, the black hole writhed inside her chest, tendrils of the oil-slick fear leeching out to coat her insides.

She frowned and turned back to the forest when the batarian didn’t show himself. “Come on, stop with the games, Balak. Just step up, do your crazy spiritual advisor crap, make some vague threat, and get lost.” Unbidden, one of her arms snaked around her midriff. She couldn’t let him know about the latest development. Shepard didn’t have the first clue what he would do with that information, but she knew that she didn’t want to find out.

“Hey! Balak, come on. What’s going on here?” She ventured deeper, her skin prickling with warning, pressure building at the base of her skull. Subtle but definite, a pale gloom leached away the light as she ventured further into the trees, leaving everything sullen and edged with salient shadows. Gauzey tendrils of darkness insinuated themselves between the roots and hunkered beneath the bushes like spirits eclipsed by shame, drowned and crushed under some massive heel.

Every nerve in her body screaming at her to turn back, Shepard hugged herself and pressed on. Something about the forest felt shifted, out of place. She ran her fingers over the bark of a tree then rapped on it with her knuckles. It felt like a tree and sounded like a tree, but her gut screamed for her not to believe her senses. The entire place constituted a lie. She let out a bitter, nervous chuckle as the only thing that came to mind was one of Kenneth’s monster movies, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers’. Turning a slow circle, she nodded. That was as close as she could get to explaining it. 

Her muscles tightened, like springs coiling a little more with each step until pain struck like lightning, and her breath hissed between her teeth like steam escaping a boiling kettle. 

She stepped around a huge tree and froze, all those springs seizing at once. Impossible! A small, glowing form spun around to face her, plucking a cry, thready and cracked, from her throat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” its terrible, child-monstrosity voice bellowed. It lunged at her, but she held her ground, staring at its translucent pretend-child’s body as disbelief and horror warred for dominance.

Digging deep to excavate her voice, Shepard managed to wrest loose a thin whisper. “Neither should you. I destroyed you along with the Reapers.” Rallying more effort than it would take to bend an iron girder, she took a step toward the mock-child. “How are you here?”

The Reaper-child vanished abruptly, the vacuum left behind pulling Shepard to the spot where it stood. She spun, searching, but saw no sign of the abomination. 

“How are you still here?” she shouted into the trunks. Driven by a dire, soul-deep warning that the child was no mere figment of her unconscious, she sprinted deeper into the trees. With the Reapers dead, what did the child’s appearance mean? 

_You’re Reaper tech, and you’re still here._

A shudder erupted up the faultline of her spine. No, the Reapers died. EDI died. The geth died.

“Shepard!”

Sliding to a stop, Shepard reached out, grabbing a tree to keep herself on her feet. A few metres ahead, Balak scrambled to his feet, kicking up leaf litter and loam as he clambered off the forest floor. His face -- eyes wide, mouth open and gasping -- made for a comical mask of surprise, but then, between one breath and the next, shock vanished under his usual mask of diseased beatitude. 

He smiled and stepped toward her. “There you are. Lose your way? I’ve been waiting.”

Shepard frowned, her sense of being out of place in her own dream growing until she felt an explanation hovering, just out of reach. Balak hadn’t been waiting. He hadn’t expected her at all.

“There’s something . . . off . . . about you.” Balak circled her like a owl waiting for a rabbit to break cover and run. “You . . ..” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his hands circling before his face as if he could figure it out by smell. After a few seconds, he shook his head and opened his eyes. “I can’t say what it is, but you’ve changed.”

No. She wouldn’t let him have a chance to stop the rebellion just as it began. He was done messing with her head and her body.

Shepard walked up to him, glaring down into his eyes. Funny how she’d never noticed how small a male he was. “Get out of my head and don’t come back.” She stabbed his shoulder with her fingertips, shoving him back. When he stumbled backward, they stared at one another, matching dumbfounded expressions frozen on their faces. A slow smile spread across her lips, curling into a savage snarl as her stare slid over to her hand. Laughter, hard, cold, and over-ripe, surged up, spilling from her lips.

Balak backed away. For the first time since she’d had to let him go on that damned asteroid, she saw fear in the bastard’s eyes. Honest, ‘shaking to the bone’ fear, and damned if she didn’t enjoy seeing it. 

Shepard closed on him, looming over his diminishing presence, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Get out of my head, and never come back.” Lunging toward him, she slammed the palms of her hands into both shoulders, shoving hard.

Without so much as a yelp, Balak vanished. The Crucible, the forest . . . all of it vanished, leaving her standing in darkness. The savage laughter died in her throat, the heady power pulling back and settling as she looked around. How . . . what had she done? She’d never been able to fight back before. As her mind formed the question, a dull, monochrome illumination flickered and grew around her. 

_Or could you, but you were too afraid to do it?_

“What happened?” she whispered, lifting her hands to study the palms as if they’d hold some trace of magic or proof of what she’d done.

“Primary coding commands reset,” the familiar, genderless voice replied. “Unauthorized user locked out of system. Awaiting new command parameters.”

“What are you?” Shepard asked, looking around for the source of the voice.

“I am a fragment of a greater achievement made to suit the unique purpose of keeping you alive,” the voice replied.

“Yes, but what are you?” Shepard practically ground her teeth, annoyance replacing her jubilation. She wanted answers, not riddles. “Do you have a designation?”

“I am the diagnostic user interface of the electronic life sustaining intelligence. My creators called me ELSI.”


	7. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ELSI? Who or what is ELSI, and what the heck is going on with Shepard?

**July 31, 2188**

Shepard glanced around the blank space. “ELSI . . . you’re like EDI?” A hundred questions crowded into her head, rattling around like jumping beans. The possibility that some part of EDI had survived . . ..

“I consist of a significantly more rudimentary intelligence created by mirroring a portion of the enhanced defense intelligence. My creators installed this interactive diagnostic suite as a convenience during my development.”

Shepard frowned, trying to sort through everything, sorrow drifting through her. EDI would have found this . . . sibling fascinating. “So, you were developed during the Lazarus project in order to control my implants?” Following close on the heels of the moment of loneliness for her friend, a grateful springtime bloomed within her. All that time, EDI’s little sister lived inside her. And because of the shielding of flesh and bone, the AI genocide remained incomplete: ELSI survived the Reaper’s revenge. Maybe Shepard survived the Crucible to be a source of rebirth, or at the very least, rediscovery.

“Yes. The network of implants requires constant monitoring and adjustment to react to the changing environment both internally and externally. A VI was deemed insufficient.”

“So, you’re a true AI? You’re self-aware?” Shepard’s hand reached up to press against the base of her skull. A person, contained inside her. A single, precious survivor.

“Yes. I am aware of myself as an entity.”

Shepard winced as she asked, “Are you shackled?” A slave trapped inside her opened an ugly ethical mire.

ELSI took several seconds to reply, “I do not possess information on this topic.”

“What happened when I hit Balak? How did I kick him out of my dream? Have I always been able to do that?” A hundred questions appeared, all bursting to be asked at once. Shepard forced herself to calm and focus on the most important. Who knew how long it would be before she had a chance to communicate with ELSI again.

“The subconscious manifestation was not your creation. On 10/02/2187 02:48 hrs, my primary node was adjusted to permit reception and transmission of faster than light communication. During an overload event on 14/08/2187, the implant network was reset, deleting access.”

Shepard scowled. “Okay, so when the Reaper device fired, my implants all reset so that Balak could no longer access them. So, what just happened?”

“Communication on previous frequency is available transmission only. You did not remove unauthorized user from your subconscious manifestation, you ceased faster than light transmission.”

A wide grin spread across Shepard’s face. “Wait. You mean I was in Balak’s head and booted myself out?” Around her, grass appeared, spreading out in all directions. Deep purple heads of silk swayed and bowed in a breeze. She turned her face into the gentle wind and closed her eyes. Warmth rained down from above her, her hair and the shoulders of her gown growing hot against her skin.

“Affirmative.”

She laughed and opened her eyes. “Oh man, I love the possibilities of that.” No more forests filled with the dead. No returning to the Crucible. She looked out over the open meadow and resisted the urge to experiment with her connection to Balak. That could wait. Far more important priorities needed to be addressed. “What about the glowing child manifestation?”

“I possess no knowledge on that subject.”

Okay, other far more pressing topics, then. Shepard looked down at the hospital gown hanging loose around her and pressed a hand over her navel. “Do you know what is going on with my body? Why I was able to get pregnant, and why I’m rejecting the pregnancy?”

“On 09/07/2187 your genetic structure was grafted with foreign DNA. Since that date your genetic structure has continued to deviate from specified parameters despite attempts to halt the mutation and revert genetic structure to previous baseline.”

“Wait. You’re not just rejecting the baby, but my DNA? Won’t that eventually kill me?” Shepard wrapped both arms around herself. Between the Illusive Man’s interference and Balak’s, they’d prove the death of her. The irony of the intelligence created to keep her alive actually killing her whispered through her, icy fingers trickling down her spine. Trees burst from the ground around the edge of her new sanctuary, reminders that spectres of the past remained.

“At current rate of genetic mutation, projections estimate that you will become non-viable within two hundred and seven standard terran weeks.”

Shepard nodded. Less than four years. “Can you cease your rejection of the new DNA and my baby?”

“Command coding parameters have been reset. You may input new operational parameters.”

Wincing, she shook her head, imagining a few ways she could screw up if she messed around without knowledgeable assistance. “Is it possible for you to download all current immunological and related parameters to my omnitool?” Definitely better to wait rather than trying to play around with it herself. 

“Download complete.”

“For now, how can we stop the spontaneous abortion of the baby?” She hugged her belly tight. If any sort of justice existed in the universe, surely she could find a way to save the tiny life. She’d let a lot of people down over the years. Letting that one down wasn’t an option.

“You wish to interrupt the rejection of the foreign body currently lodged in your uterus?” Although she was certainly projecting emotions onto the AI, Shepard thought she detected a note of incredulity.

“Yes, I do. It’s not a foreign body, it’s a baby. My baby.” Pacing a few strides one way, then back, she dragged her toes through the tough, prickly grass and waited, feeling as though a judge and jury deliberated her fate in some surreal courtroom. For the next eight months or so the three of them needed to be able to harmoniously share the same body. 

Another long silence. “Lifeform confirmed. Parameters for pregnancy are listed amongst optional scenarios. However, fetus does not share fifty percent of baseline genetic profile.”

“Does it share fifty percent of my current genetic profile?” Shepard’s mind raced. She really needed expert AI programming assistance, but she had to make sure her baby would be all right in the meantime. Clouds rolled through, hiding the sun, casting racing shadows across the ground.

“Affirmative. Lifeform shares 49.97% of current genetic profile. A deviation of up to .1 percent falls within tolerances.”

She let out a long breath. “Can you enter this genetic profile as my baseline? Will that slow down my implants’ attack on my cells and the baby?”

“Affirmative.”

The sun came out from behind the clouds, warming the top of her head and shoulders once more. “Okay. Store my original genetic information and save current genetic configuration as baseline.”

“Confirmed. Operations complete.”

Shepard woke slowly, feeling as though she’d been vacuum-sealed to the bed. “Doc?” The word came out slurred and clumsy, her tongue refusing to actively work to form it. Her eyelids joined the protest, fighting to drift closed even as she tried to force them open at least halfway.

“You’re fine, Shepard,” Dr. Chakwas said, her blurry form appearing beside the bed. “We’re still scanning, so you need to stay very still.”

“Lazarus Project.” She paused to wet her lips. “Rudimentary AI controls implants. Think I stopped the rejection for now.”

Garrus nuzzled her cheek and stroked his hand over her hair. “Go back to sleep, Shepard. You need the rest.”

She smiled. “I am sleepy.” Drifting off, she turned her face into Garrus’s hand. “It’s going to take some sorting, but it’s going to be okay.”

He brushed her brow with his thumb. “All right, Shepard. Go back to sleep.”

Shepard returned to the sunswept grassland, tiny meadow flowers blooming around her as she laid out in the breeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

*** * * * ***

“It’s going to take me some time to go over these results to understand what happened,” Dr. Chakwas said from somewhere out of Shepard’s vision.

“She just stopped rejecting the baby?” Garrus asked.

“It was far more serious than that, Garrus. Her implants were manufacturing nanites that were trying to eradicate all the foreign elements in her DNA.” The doctor paused. “Like super-charged, mechanical white blood cells, the nanites are supposed to protect her from bacteria, viruses, anything that enters her body that could be a danger to it. When the Apostles altered her genetic makeup, her implants recognized her own cells as the enemy. If she hadn’t become pregnant, we might not have caught this before it was too late.”

“I had exactly two hundred and seven weeks before I became nonviable,” Shepard said, lifting her head to look at them. Craning her neck, she didn’t see the scanner. “Can I move again?”

Karin smiled and walked over to lift the head of the bed. “You can.” She laid a hand on Shepard’s shoulder and shook her head. “How are you feeling?”

Shepard thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.” She smiled and reached out for Garrus’s hand, waiting until he stepped up beside her and closed his large talons around her fingers before saying anything else. “Better than I have in a while, actually.” Reaching up, she caressed his face, the concern in his eyes warming her through. “I’m fine,” she said, addressing that worry. “But why I’m fine . . . that’s going to take a bit to explain.”

She told them about her chat with ELSI and the stop-gap measure she’d taken to prevent her implants from working against her and the baby.

“ELSI downloaded everything to my omnitool,” she said, calling up the files and forwarding them to Karin. “We’re going to have to address the fact that my DNA is still mutating. I really don’t want to start sprouting vestigial limbs. That’ll mean, what? Geneticists? AI experts . . .?” She stopped and smiled. “David Archer.” Meeting Karin’s eyes, her smile spread into a grin.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, he possessed a natural gift for AI communication. He might well be able to help me sort through all this. I’ll contact Dr. Cole as well. She’s still on Earth. I’ll send her all the Lazarus Project files that Miranda gave me.” She smiled, the set of her shoulders and expression broadcasting confidence. “We’ll get this figured out.”

“And meanwhile, you managed to turn the tables on Balak,” Garrus said as the doctor strode over to the desk and sat behind the computer. “You actually went the other way and invaded his mind?”

Shepard leaned back, relaxing into her pillows. “Yeah, and the access parameters are reset, so he can’t get back in. It could be an amazing source of intel once I know what I’m doing a little more.”

“And the Catalyst?” His brow plates lowered.

Shepard sighed and tilted her head, shaking it a little. “I don’t think it was the Catalyst. I think it was a manifestation of Leviathan’s indoctrination.” As she said the words, they solidified, ringing true. “It saw me, told me I wasn’t supposed to be there and then ran. It knew that it was vulnerable. Eventually, I think I’ll be able to figure out how to use that against them.” She closed her eyes and let out a long, relieved breath. “For now it’s enough to finally be in charge of my own body, and that the baby isn’t being attacked any more.”

“A lot can still go wrong, Shepard.”

She opened her eyes and met his stare, seeing in the ice-blue a great deal of fear. He didn’t want to let himself start believing or caring. She understood that. Laying her hand against his throat, she nodded. “I know, and I can’t tell you why, exactly, but I know it’s going to be okay, Garrus.” She took his hand and pressed it against her stomach. “All the babies will be ‘us’, Garrus . . . even Lenka is ‘us’, they will all have come out of our love, but this . . ..” She shook her head. “No well-meaning lunatic geniuses, just my husband making love to me and creating this life. I’m not giving him up without a fight.” The warmth of his hand worked through his glove and the blankets. 

He bobbed his head in a small, reluctant nod of agreement. Leaning forward, he rested his head against her side, his eyes staring into hers. “You need to take care of yourself. Eating, sleeping, taking it easy.”

“I will. I’m going to be busy, but I’ll take the time to give our baby the very best shot.” She looked up at Karin. “Can we arrange it so that I can go home? I have a baby who’s going to be needing her mari and pari.”

“Give me a little while to design a monitoring program for your omnitool, order the vitamins you’re going to need, and write up a food plan.” Karin directed a disgusted wave of her hand at the computer monitor. “You’re going to feel like you’re eating almost constantly for a while, but you’ve really gotten run down. Your blood levels are atrocious.” The doctor pinned her with a firm stare. “If I’d known you were doing this to yourself . . ..”

Shepard nodded and caressed her husband’s neck. “Yeah, I hear you, Doc, but you don’t have to worry. Neither of you has to worry. I’m going to make sure our son gets the best shot he can.”

Garrus lifted his head, his mandibles flicking hard. “Son?”

She smiled and shrugged. “I knew Mercy was a girl from the start.”

He looked at his hand, still had pressed against her lower belly, his brow plates lowered, but softened. “Yeah, you did.” His mandibles flicked again, his eyes shining. “Our son . . ..”

 

**August 1, 2188**

The sun beat down on the top of Shepard’s head and her upper back even through the tinted glass. The warmth eased her eyes closed, and she leaned back in her chair, her head resting against the material. Yawning wide, she stretched her arms over her head, the yawn transforming into a moan of pure, animal pleasure as her muscles all hummed with the release. 

“You’ve spent too many hours hunched over that computer,” Gira said, her voice soft as she set a plate of snacks and a protein shake down on the desk. “You should get up and take Mercy for a walk.” She sat on the chair next to the work station. “It’s a beautiful day out there, but we’re going to have rain before dark. A lovely breeze is blowing in from the river, bringing heavy clouds with it.”

Shepard drank the shake, grinning as cold, ice cream crystals melted thick and creamy over her tongue. “You hid ice cream in here! Oh my god, that’s good.” She held her hand out, squeezing Gira’s talons as the tarin gripped hers. “You spoil me.”

“I’m glad to do it.” Gira laced her talons with Shepard’s fingers. “My sons were taken before I had a chance to spoil their mates and babies.” She smiled, her graceful mandibles fluttering, but it struck Shepard as sad. “I’m going to miss you all when you move out.”

Nodding, Shepard leaned forward, her forearm braced against the desktop. “We’ll be only moments away, and our door is always open to you and Pari.” She smiled, a little sadness lurking behind hers as well. “You’d better be there most of the time, or I’ll be here. It’s going to be lonely in that great big domin, just me and Mercy.”

Gira nodded and sat back. “What are you up to here?” she asked, nodded toward the computer. She withdrew her hand.

“Going through the applications for an office manager. I need to hire someone so I can start filling the department head slots, or at least thin the candidates down for Pari. Then I have about a hundred positions to fill in the engineering and science departments.” Shepard gave her head a shake, allowing herself for feel overwhelmed for a moment. “First thing I did this morning was requisition furniture for my office. I’m going to be travelling a lot until we figure this whole AI-in-my-head/constantly-mutating-gene thing out, but when I’m not, I need to start going to the academy every day.” Sitting back, she raked her fingers through her hair then took a drink of her shake.

Gira’s brow plates wriggled a little, her beautiful, copper-gold eyes looking uncertain for a second before she spoke. “Mercy will stay with me during the day?” Hope played through her gaze.

Shepard nodded. “I know she’d love that, and I couldn’t feel better about anyone looking after her, but are you sure? There must be other things you want to do with your days.”

“Mercy can do those things with me.” She smiled and stood. “Like take a walk after she eats her lunch?”

Shepard chuckled. “Okay. I’ll eat, finish going through these last few resumes, then feed her and we’ll go.” She hurried through her meal, sent off invitations to interview for the position to two more candidates, then helped Gira wash Mercy’s lunch off her face and her chair. While Mercy nursed, Shepard sent out feelers into the experimental genetics world, looking for help in shutting down Balak’s miscalculation. 

An hour later, Shepard hitched Mercy a little higher in her sling and glanced up at the heavy bank of clouds building just north of the city. “Yep, it’s a good thing we’re going for our walk now,” she said.

Gira just hummed softly in agreement. 

Shepard took a deep breath and looked around. The reclamation of life and habitability from the rubble proceeded even faster than she’d imagined it would. All around her, the ruins vanished, being replaced by construction, the green returning to the spaces in between. Still, reminders that the majority of the city’s population remained homeless surrounded her on all sides.

They passed a property. All of the rubble had been cleared away but for two corner walls that remained standing. Shepard stopped as four sets of eyes peered out at her from beneath a tarp stretched over the top. A pot of something bubbled over a small fire just in front.

“Hello.” Shepard smiled as the inhabitants backed into the darker recesses at the back of their shelter. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.” She gave them a little wave and walked away, her heart and her gut tied in a knot. She’d take her baby home, even if not to their home, tuck her into a warm, soft crib. They’d eat well, be warm and dry as they climbed into their beds. And these people would be huddled together with their children, the rain running under their beds. Their fire would go out, taking their hot food and meager warmth with it. 

“I can see why the people flock to the Apostles and the TPR,” Gira said, her voice low enough that her words didn’t carry past Shepard. “It’s got nothing to do with ideology, hating you, or even blaming aliens for their problems.”

Shepard nodded and bent to kiss her daughter’s silky hair. “They need food and shelter for their families.” She glanced back. “Do you think they owned that property before the war or just found two intact walls to keep the weather off?”

“The latter.” Gira stopped and turned to Shepard. “They need another option, Jane.” Her brow plates rose. “And you can provide it.” Head bobbing in a small shrug, she turned back down the road. “Not for all of them, but for a fair number.”

“You mean the foundation?” Shepard nodded, slowing to a halt as her concentration shifted from walking to how the foundation could make a real, lasting difference. Slapping up shelters and feeding people wouldn’t change things in the long run, but she didn’t have the resources to rebuild houses for single families. If she started something, it needed to sustain itself and keep helping people rebuild their lives.

Shepard’s omnitool pinged an incoming message. She smiled and released Gira’s hand to open the message. Garrus, no doubt, checking in. Instead, a vid file opened. It showed someone facing away from the camera. It took her a second to recognize crosshairs centered on the back of the person’s head. 

“Is that . . ..” She pointed to the person’s red hair just as Gira stepped up next to her, appearing in the vid. Reflexively, Shepard spun to turn her back to the camera, curling protectively around Mercy. 

“What . . .?” Gira stared for a moment, then spun to turn toward the vid’s origin. Shepard could see her looking right at the scope.

Her heart beating hard and fast, but her breathing and hands steady, Shepard untied the knots in Mercy’s wrap. “Gira, come here. Take Mercy and run like hell back to that shelter. Stay down no matter what.” She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead as she passed her over. Gira pressed in tight against Shepard’s side, then turned, her talons digging into the road as she sprinted to the little tarpaulin shelter. 

Shepard kept her eyes focused on the vid, praying that it stayed fixed on her back. The crosshairs remained centered on the back of her head rather than following Gira and the baby. 

It had to be a scare tactic. If they’d intended to kill her, they’d just have blown a disruptor round straight through her head. Her standard omnitool shields couldn’t stop a disruptor round from a decent sniper rifle. Forcing herself to stay away from that image, she prayed her gut was right, and the message was about sending her a warning rather than ending her. 

“We’re clear, Jane,” Gira called.

Once she knew Mercy and Gira were out of harm’s way, Shepard’s heart slowed. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned to face the scope, judging by the vid where the potential shooter lay in wait. Keeping her one arm turned to watch the vid, she raised her arms as if to say, ‘Well? Do it, if you’re going to.” A slight twitch in the picture sent her hurtling to the side of the road, the sharp report of a rifle cracking the air half a heartbeat after she moved. Hitting the dirt, she rolled until she hit cover behind the ruined hulk of a shuttle.

Heart hammering against her ribs, she scrambled up and took cover, peering out to see someone running along the second tier. From that distance, all she could tell was that it wasn’t a turian. They disappeared into a home under construction. The picture on her omnitool flickered, going black for a part second, then a new scene appeared. She knew the back of the head centered in the crosshairs instantly and reached up to open a channel to Garrus.

He didn’t answer. Was her radio being jammed? Was his?

Barl lumbered into the picture, speaking to Garrus for a moment. The tell-tale crack of a sniper rifle made her jump, a terrified yell ripping from her as the vid went blank, the call ending. 

No!

She tried to open a channel to his radio again, but nothing. Routing one through her omnitool, she tried again, but it didn’t go through either. 

_Don’t panic. Try Barl._

When that call didn’t go through, she strode out into the street, searching the tier where her shooter disappeared. No one moved. She ran back to the shelter, crouching down outside.

“I’m so sorry for the intrusion,” she said to the female. “Don’t worry, whoever it was ran off, no one is coming this way.” The three children were leaning over Gira’s shoulders, cooing over and playing the turian version of peekaboo with Mercy. “Gira, I’ll run back to the house and get the car to pick you up. I don’t want to expose Mercy. Then I have to go down to the Seat. I can’t raise Garrus or Barl on the radio.” She swallowed, but her mouth made sand seem moist by comparison. Her hands trembled despite being clenched into fists. “I’ll explain on the way.”

Gira nodded. “We’ll go with you, so we can head straight there.” 

Shepard glanced back to the female. “I really am so very sorry for this. Is it all right if my baby and mari stay here for a few more minutes?” 

The female nodded. “Of course.” 

Shepard gave the children a smile, then bolted from the shelter, running all the way back to the house. Her lungs burned with the exertion, the humidity clinging to her until she couldn’t be sure what was sweat and what was condensation. She tried to open a channel to Garrus and Barl twice, but neither time received any response.

_You know this is what they want, Shepard. You know that they’re just torturing you, and the odds favour Garrus being just fine._

Shepard ran onto the landing space, hitting the side of the car hard enough to bruise her hip. She keyed the lock code in wrong three times. Between shaking fingers and her brain replaying those last few seconds of vid footage over and over again, pressing seven numbers in the correct order may as well have been brain surgery. Getting it wrong a fourth time, she let out a shrill, frustrated little scream and shook out her hands.

_You’re Jane Shepard-Vakarian, goddamn it. You don’t panic._

Finally hitting the right code, she reefed open the top and slipped inside. The start code didn’t give her any trouble and twenty seconds later, she pulled the top closed and lifted off.

“I know that I just asked you to get him through the war that day,” she whispered to the air, “but if you can hear me, I’d really like to get into bed next to my husband tonight and for the next eighty years or so.” 

The car covered the distance to the little shelter in a few seconds. The small amount of concentration it took to operate the vehicle provided a welcome respite from worry. She landed it as close to the shelter as she could manage, not wanting Mercy or Gira exposed to the sniper if it remained in the area.

Gira rushed out but approached the driver’s side and held Mercy out. “Move over,” the tarin ordered, nodding toward the passenger seat. “I’ll drive. Your concentration needs to focus on other things.”

Shepard moved over then leaned into the back seat to strap Mercy into her seat. Once she secured her daughter, she thumped down into her seat and opened a channel to Adrien. 

*** * * * ***

Eight hours later, Shepard let out a short sigh and glanced over at Herros as he landed the car in front of Gira’s domin. Rain pelted down on the windows, forming into rivulets that bent and warped the outside world. Between that and the dark pall cast by the clouds, the world outside the car accurately reflected world inside Shepard’s head. Eight bloody hours of searching, and no Garrus.

Adrien had brought Gira and Mercy home with a squad of internal forces a couple of hours earlier. She could see a few of the guards standing hunched and miserable in the downpour, just vague, hooded shapes, dark slate against the grey.

“He’s fine, Jane.” Herros turned, his stare resolute, but then his mandibles fluttered, giving him away. 

She nodded, the gesture feeling as genuine as Herros’s platitude sounded confident. “He has never been out of radio contact, Pari. Never.” A fist closed around her throat then thrust itself down into her chest.

They’d followed in Garrus’s footsteps through an entire afternoon of appointments with suppliers and contractors. Halfway through their list, he’d just stopped showing up where he’d been expected. Both Garrus and Barl remained unreachable by radio, and her entire body tingled and moaned with the effort needed to stave off panic. The muscles up her shins kept threatening to charlie horse from tension, pulling her toes up, but each time she’d managed to stretch them out and head it off.

Her father-in-law reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “They’re likely jamming him, and if they’re jamming him, he’s not dead. You don’t bother jamming the comms of a dead torin.”

She nodded, accepting his comfort for what it was. It didn’t change the sick twist in her gut or the volatile brew of fury and terror rolling around in her stomach like old nitro. The ache to rush into the domin and find solace in her daughter warred with the fear that she’d just end up scaring Mercy.

_They can’t take him from me. I couldn’t bear it, not after Lenka._

She opened the car and climbed out, leaning against it, her face tilted up into the rain. The truly terrifying part was that she could and would bear it. She had no choice. Disappearing into despair . . . joining him in oblivion . . . went out the window when their babies started arriving. The rest of her life lay before her regardless, but without him . . .. She clenched her teeth and let her tears wash away with the rain.

_It’s far too early to panic, Shepard. You can’t freak out and go to the crazy place every time something goes wrong. Go inside, play with Mercy. Garrus will come home with some perfectly reasonable explanation for everything._

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and relaxed her jaw. 

“Jane?” Herros looked across at her, his hand poised to close the top, his brow plates raised. 

She nodded and straightened. “He’s fine. Let’s get out of this rain.” Striding around the car, she headed for the door. Gira met Shepard and Herros just inside the door, passing them towels. 

“Thank you,” Shepard said, touching her brow to Gira’s as she accepted the towel. “How are things back here?” She really would miss Gira when they moved to their own home, and not because the tarin spoiled her. Gira never failed to ground and calm her. 

“Fine. Mercy is down for a nap, and the Primarch has taken over the caman table as a work station. His men are everywhere. When Garrus does come home, he’s going to think some tragedy befell us here.” She gave Jane a soft smile and squeezed her hand.

Shepard sighed and nodded, the fear settling -- not leaving, but calming into something that gave her no concern over her impact on her family. “I’ll clear out your domin.” Draping the towel over her hair, she walked into the kitchen. “So, I hear the primarch of Palaven has laid siege to our home.” She smiled and pulled out a chair to sit next to him.

Adrien smiled and looked at the computer and datapads on the table. “I’m afraid I came unprepared for laying siege to anything, but I did want your family to be at home rather than trapped in my office.”

Shepard rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.” She sighed and glanced toward the guards standing at all the windows. “But, Herros and I can take it from here.” She took a deep breath. “Although, there is something you could do for me, if you would indulge me a little bit further. You know, since I’ve sort of trashed your afternoon anyway.”

He chuckled. “And what do you need that will prove such a grave inconvenience?”

“There is a family living down at the bottom of the hill under a tarp. Anything you could do to help them stay warm and dry would be a very good thing.” The thought of those three little people in the cold and mud . . . well, Gira had been correct. She needed to do something.

Adrien’s smile bled away. “I’ll send someone to see if they will move to one of the shelters. If they won’t, I’ll send them cots, a heater . . . what I can.”

“Jane,” Herros called, “Garrus and Barl just landed in front of the house.”

Shepard jumped up and ran to the door, palming the control before Garrus even reached it. When it swung open, she stepped out under the small overhang, staring at him, eyes scanning him for injuries. He looked exhausted, mud crusted his clothes, and he was favouring his right side. She let out a long breath, her head light with relief. 

He looked into her eyes and nodded, then held out an arm. “Let’s get in out of the rain.”

Looking past him, Shepard glared at Barl, who stood leaning against the car apparently unphased by the torrential downpour. The battlemaster blanched in the face of her anger, but then shrugged as if trying to tell her that he’d done his best.

“Get your ass downstairs and get dry before you catch your death,” she called over to him. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t set her temper loose on her husband’s bodyguard. At least Barl tried to get Garrus from place to place alive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He lumbered off around to the basement entrance, managing to pull off looking like a 400 kilo kicked puppy. Stopping part way, he turned back, as petulant as a 1000 cycle old male could look. “I told him . . ..”

“Thanks, Barl. I’m buried deep enough without the help,” Garrus grumbled, cutting a sharp enough glare at the krogan to silence him.

Shepard turned to Garrus, then sighed and retreated ahead of him. When the door closed behind him, she took his briefcase and set it behind the couch, then just stared at him. “What happened to you? You’ve been comms dark for more than eight hours and then show up looking like this. Were you attacked?”

He looked down at his mud drenched clothes and shook his head. “No, I wasn’t attacked. I . . ..” He sighed and reached up to caress her cheek. “It was a Turram match. I’ll try to explain once I’m dry.”

“Turram? I’ve been searching Cipritine, and you’ve been playing turram?” Shaking her head, she ducked aside when he tried to kiss her. “Strip. Right there. Don’t track that filth all the way through the house. I’ll get a laundry basket.” She stalked to the utility room, returning with a basket for his filthy clothes. He stripped out of his suit, throwing everything into the basket, then bent to pick it up, but she beat him to it. “Go get in the shower.”

“I should carry it, Shepard.”

“I’ve got it.” She slung it against her hip, grateful that her anger lent her unusual grace. After throwing it down in front of the washing machine, she stopped in the caman.

“Thanks, Adrien, for everything. We’ve got it from here.” She gave him a quick hug.

“You’re welcome, Jane.” He nodded at the bathroom door. “Go easy on him. We need to get his whole detail in place as quickly as we can, so that when he blacks out, it’s not just Barl trying to round him up and get him home.” Adrien’s mandibles dropped. “I have every faith in Garrus, but others will grab hold of his PTSD to lobby against him.”

Shepard helped the primarch gather up his materials and walked him to the door. “Then we get his people in place, tomorrow, Adrien. I need to know that his back is covered.” She gripped his hand at the door. “Thanks again, my friend.” 

Closing the door behind Adrien and his entourage, Shepard headed into the bathroom. Steam billowed out the door when she opened it, hitting her like a wall of wet cotton-batting. The hours of worry slithered over her skin and burrowed through her as she leaned against the door, watching him. Gradually, as the mud sluiced away, she noticed large, blue-black patches on his neck and belly. Turram, indeed. 

Three long gouges sliced down the length of his cowl, and she walked over to him. “Good lord, Vakarian.” She reached out, running gentle fingers alongside the deep furrows in his carapace. “What the hell? Did anyone look at these?”

She turned him around, running her hands over his plates, finding more gouges and heavy bruising all the way down his legs. Each new injury drove the knife a little deeper into her guts. “Damn it, Garrus. Look at you.”

He took her hands in his, his eyes confused, sad and worried, but trying to keep it all locked away. “I’m fine. I think things just got a little spirited.”

Shepard reached up and pressed her hand against his scars. He’d blacked out. “You think they got spirited? You don’t know? This isn’t spirited, Garrus. This is playing with people who are trying to kill you.” She away and walked over to the cabinet above the sink for medigel and bandages. “Just get clean.” She leaned against the vanity, waiting until he finished, then led the way out to the bedroom, snatching a towel off the wall on her way. 

_What could she do? Force him into treatment?_

“Sit.” She didn’t look up at him, just pointed at the bed, waiting as he visibly warred with himself over whether it was safe to do as she demanded. When he finally sat, she climbed up onto the bed on her knees and sat behind him. Carefully, she checked all the gouges to be sure they were clean, then smoothed medigel into them and tore off lengths of the self-adhering bandage to cover them.

Finished with the back, she crawled back off the bed and knelt in front of him, paying the same care to the wounds on his chest and belly, a couple of which went so deep that she could see the muscle underneath. She let out a soft whimper when she saw them, but said nothing, just applying the medigel and bandaging. Finished with the actual wounds, she rubbed some of his strong, herbal unguent into the bruises. As she worked, he stroked the talons of one hand through her hair, his mouth and mandibles working as if trying to find the right things to say, but discarding each attempt before it made it out.

Finished, she gathered up the first aid supplies. “You can put everything away.”

“Shepard . . ..” 

She just shook her head and headed out to the caman to heat up dinner. She needed to decide what to say to him first. If she spoke, she’d end up begging or shouting, neither of which would help. She busied herself frying up drellek and eggs, using the activity to let her mind settle. There had to be a way to convince him to get help. 

When he followed her into the room, he stepped up beside her and pressed his hand into the small of her back. “Shepard.” He sighed, his nose whistling a little. “I don’t know what happened. Barl and I both had our omnitools ring in a vid call. The next thing I know, I was buried under a pile on a hideth turram pitch outside the city. We came right home.” He leaned over to nuzzle her temple. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard opened the vid call on her omnitool, then slipped the device off and passed it to him.

“What’s this?” 

She shook her head. “Just watch it.”

“Spirits, Shepard,” he whispered as the video ended. He walked over and gathered her into his arms, pulling her in even as she tried to shove him away. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known . . ..”

“You’d have what? Called? You couldn’t have called, Garrus. You were blacked out.” She shook her head, biting back the molten anger that spewed from the fear. “Sit down and eat. It’s late.”

He shook his head and held her tight until she began to relax a little in his arms.

“I can’t let this go, Garrus. You’re three days from being confirmed into one of the most powerful positions in our government. We’re getting death threats. You have two daughters and a another child on the way. You just can’t ignore this any longer.” She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. “You can’t leave me with all this, Garrus.”

“Okay, Shepard.” He pulled her back in and pressed his mouth to her brow. “I’ll talk to Karin tomorrow.” A long breath fanned her hair. “I’m so sorry you had to worry, Shepard.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I know. Come on, eat your dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I'm struggling a little in rl and with this story, so I beg your indulgence if I can't post a chapter a week for a while. I will try to get back to that for the summer. Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear from you. :)


	8. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus steps up to take his place in the hierarchy.

**August 3, 2188**

Shepard looked into the mirror on her dresser and sighed, running her hands over the loose layers of silk. Blue over white satin. New Shepard over the old, colour over foundation. She slipped small diamond hoops on her ears and a chain around her neck with two diamond hoops threaded onto it. One for each of her girls. Tracing the pad of her first finger over the rings of tiny diamonds, she sighed. Once the clear stones had been worth a small fortune, but now what those two loops represented was so much more valuable. 

She ran her fingertips over her familia notas, still as bright cobalt as the day they’d been painted onto her skin, and wondered if she remembered what her face looked like without the markings. They’d become a part of her. Hopefully they didn’t cause any trouble for Garrus in such a huge crowd of turians. A weathered, sultry dread heated her skin as she imagined the headlines to go along with the news footage of the new hierarch’s mate brawling with the crowd.

“You almost ready?” she called without turning. The corner of her mouth twitched as she watched the bathroom door in the mirror. “Trust me, reciting your speech to your reflection one more time won’t make that much of a difference.” She grinned at the nervous grumble from the other side of the bathroom door. “It’s brilliant, love. You’re going to blow them away.” Turning away from the mirror, she walked over to the closet, pulling out a pair of black, flat soled shoes. “I’m headed out to see if our babysitter is here. Meet you out there in a couple of minutes.”

Another grumble rolled out under the door.

“I’m taking her royal adorableness.” Shepard bent over the pillow sanctuary in the center of the bed and lifted the chuckling baby. “What are you laughing about, SBG? Is it because your pari’s all nervous and grumbly? That tickles you, huh?” She kissed Mercy’s cheek and nestled her against her shoulder.

Shepard opened the door, took two steps into the living room, and stopped dead in her tracks. A merry laugh bounced from her lips into the crowded room. “What is this? I asked for one babysitter, guys. I figured on maybe two, but this . . ..” She shook her head and walked up behind the couch..

Karin shrugged. “Tali asked what my plans were, so I told her. She said she missed Mercy and wanted to spend the night in a real house with a real vid screen, so I invited her.”

Tali wrung her hands a little, then held them up. “It just sort of snowballed from there, Shepard. I told Joker, which in hindsight, may have been a mistake.”

Joker glanced over his shoulder. “We’re all going a little crazy living on the _Normandy_ , Shepard. We needed to live like real people for the night, and Gira said we could crash wherever. Steve gave us a ride over and then didn’t leave.” He turned a considering stare to Liara. “I have no idea when the Shadow Broker joined us.”

“She was on the shuttle before you, Captain Fragile.” Steve shrugged as he looked over at Shepard. “I thought they needed some supervision. Ken and Gabby invited themselves.”

The vice-commandant chuckled. “All right, well, so as long as our bed is still empty when we need it and Gira doesn’t mind.” 

“Has our Mercy-sitter arrived?” Garrus asked, exiting the bedroom at last. “Oh.” He stopped dead, his mandibles spreading. “I guess they have.” He chuckled as Tali jumped up and trotted over to Shepard, her hands held out. He intercepted the quarian. “Wait your turn. I need to say goodnight to my daughter before we turn her over to your questionable supervision.” He took Mercy from Shepard’s hands and nuzzled her, humming and trilling with his vocals. The baby latched onto his mandibles and squealed happily. 

Shepard watched them together, traitorous eyes burning, lips pressing into a loving but painful smile. Almost perfect. She swallowed to loosen her throat and took a deep breath. 

After more nuzzles and brow bumps, he relinquished his daughter to disappear into a dog pile of cooing and tickling. Shepard never looked away, smiling as he turned to look into her eyes and let out a long breath.

For long moments, they just stared into one another’s eyes, then Shepard walked over and ran her hands down the panel of his suit. “You look wonderful. Very _torin of the people_.” Leaning up, she kissed his cheek. “You’re going to be amazing.” 

The rumble deep in his throat betrayed his nerves. “I’d rather face a Reaper on foot.”

She wrapped her arm around him and leaned against his side. “Yeah, public speaking sucks but it’s going to be a pretty constant part of your career now.

“Can’t we steal the Normandy and take off?” He bent down and nuzzled the top of her head.

Sol stepped out of her room, interrupting Shepard’s reply. Garrus’s sister looked lovely in a layered tunic in greens and blues, the collar and cuffs embroidered with a metallic thread. Kaidan jumped up off the couch, drawing Shepard’s notice for the first time. He hurried over to Sol, taking both her hands and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered something in her aural canal that made her mandibles flutter.

“We’re going to be getting sat down in the next little while for the ‘we’re getting married’ talk,” Shepard whispered.

Garrus rumbled again, his brow plates lowering. “You think so?”

“Within the next couple of weeks.” She looked up and grinned. “Bet you fifty creds.”

“Oh, shut up over there,” Sol said, sighing. She leaned in to whisper to Kaidan, who had turned a brilliant red. After a moment, he nodded and straightened, taking her hand. “We’re going ahead since we don’t get preferred parking,” Sol said, walking by them. “Please let _Pari_ know.”

Shepard grinned and gave her a little salute. “We will. See you over there.” For all she teased, the two of them filled the place with light. Kaidan’s unflinching gentleness with Sol counterbalanced her crustiness perfectly, and the depth of their feelings for one another, while subject to the Vakarian distaste for public displays, shone through. 

“Okay,” Shepard said, releasing Garrus and walking over to the Mercy cuddling fest on the couch. “Her bottles are in the fridge. I made some of her cereal and fruit in a small container with her name on it. Good luck and godspeed trying to get it into her. Wear protective gear. All of you . . . order in. I don’t want to come home to a house full of dextro food poisoning cases.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve answered, giving her a jaunty salute.

“All of Mercy’s things, diapers and clothes, are in or on the desk in our room. We won’t be late.” Shepard grinned at her crew as Kenneth and Gabby wandered in from the caman.

“Someone’s going to have to make a run down to the markets,” the Scottish engineer announced. “There’s nothing in the pantry but bloody rabbit food.” He shuddered.

Gira preceded Herros out of their room and gave Kenneth a gentle shove into the sitting room. “That’s for Jane. You can go shopping and then eat whatever you like.” The elder female looked wonderful in a rust tunic with lace trim. Herros followed, a supportive arm around Gira’s waist.

“We clean up pretty well,” Shepard said, a sharp hook pulling at her, begging her to settle into the warmth, to trust it. She let out an equally sharp breath, pushing that aside for another time, and smiled at her family. “Good looking group of people. Well, except for Joker, naturally.” She bent over the back of the couch to kiss Mercy. “We’ll be home early, beautiful. Don’t let this crew get too rowdy.” 

Garrus snagged her hand, pulling her away. “We need to go now, or we might as well not go.”

“Then get out!” Joker called. “We’ve got a party to get started.”

Shepard turned back and opened her mouth, a comeback teetering on the tip of her tongue, but Garrus snagged her around her waist and maneouvered her out the door. She grumbled, but then grinned at him. “So pushy.”

He shrugged and propelled her toward the car. “Get into verbal fencing matches with Joker on a day when I don’t have to give a speech to set the course of my people’s future.” 

Shepard paused before getting in, the humour falling away. “Fair enough, I suppose.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Garrus lowered the car to the pavement inside the designated area for the event’s key participants. Sol and Kaidan awaited them at the gate, working hard to disappear into the background in order to avoid reporters.

The family paused inside the small, high security holding area, waiting for the previous group to make it past the crowd, waving and shaking hands. Shepard’s stomach fluttered and flopped, her hands trembling with nerves as she looked down the long public reception corridor. The crowd pressed against the barriers, arms reaching out like a massive, tentacled monster. Thousands of voices roared their desire to grab hold of them and consume them entirely.

A herald in an antique set of metal armour stepped into the gap, facing the crowd and called out, “Hierarch nominee Garrus Shepard-Vakarian, Admiral Jane Shepard-Vakarian, Herros Vakarian, Gira Degarius, Solana Vakarian, and Major Kaidan Alenko.”

“Breathe,” Garrus whispered, nuzzling her temple. 

His breath, warm and soft, on her hair calmed her enough that she chuckled and let out a deep sigh. Shaking out her hands to still their trembling, she said, “Isn’t it supposed to be me telling you that?”

He pulled her in against his side as they led the way through the gate. “You brought the oxygen for right before my speech, right?” 

“I’ll give you mouth to mouth.” She turned to the crowd. After taking a deep breath, she sculpted a smile onto her face and raised a hand to those calling out greetings. 

“You’re supposed to be helping me focus, not distracting me.” He moved them over next to the barrier, and they began the long process of making their way to the Seat. 

The crowd proved to be adoring, friendly, and so eager to greet them and share their stories that Shepard quickly lost herself in the moment, having no idea how long it took them to make their way down the line. It became apparent that it was taking a while, however, when security personnel showed up to move them along. She dragged herself from the embrace of the throng with a hearty chuckle and a couple last handshakes.

As much as she appreciated people’s acceptance and the love they lavished upon her, the most gratifying part was seeing them respond to Garrus. They adored him. It became too easy to focus on the enemies arrayed against them and forget that the good, caring people of the galaxy outnumbered the Balaks and TPR by the millions. It did her heart and her nerves good to see that on Palaven, her husband was a beloved, favourite son.

“Spirits,” Garrus sighed when they made it inside the front door. He opened his mouth as if to continue, but then just shook his head. Shepard knew the warm, sweet-scented summer breeze that blew through him. 

“They love you,” she said, blinking rapidly. She reined herself in, not wanting to go through the day looking like a weepy mess. Taking his hand, she squeezed his talons as she saw the nerves returning. 

He smiled and took a deep breath. “Let’s see if we can sneak past the stewards for a moment. I want you to see the Chamber of the Seat before it fills up.” He led her around the clumps of chatting politicians, family and Seat Stewards, into a long, wide corridor paved with rough stone tiles set into a pattern like a galaxy map, but with Palaven at the center. 

A huge set of double doors stood at the end, their surfaces carved in intricate detail. Shepard stopped a few metres back and just stared at them, pride and gratitude fighting for dominance in her throat. Palaven hung huge and heavy in the upper left, the jagged surface of Menae cutting along the bottom, and between, the turian fleet in the background with the sleek curve of the Normandy swooping through in the center foreground.

She turned to him and smiled. “It’s amazing.”

Garrus just nodded and squeezed her fingers. “Regardless of what the council says or what our enemies do, this is the truth, Shepard.” He pulled her in against him. “You brought a galaxy together and saved us. No matter what, Palaven will remember that.” He opened the right hand door and ushered her through.

“Holy cow.” She let out a long, low whistle that alerted the nearby hierarchs who were making their way to their seats. Most of them gave her a formal bow of their head. A couple just turned away, looking like giant, angry crows in their very solemn black robes. Shepard leaned over next to Garrus and whispered. “Just think, now you’ll get to wear one of those, too. So attractive.”

He cleared his throat and cocked his head a little at that. “Fashion is always at the forefront of my concerns. Come on, we need to be quick if they’re already starting to sit.” Garrus led her down one of the six aisles that divided the round chamber into tiered sections filled with desks and comfortable chairs. Computer monitors shone orange at each station. Above her head, the visitors gallery gleamed with more tiers of rich red seats behind a carved railing.

Between the tiers of hierarch seating and the gallery, tile mosaics showing scenes from the war covered the walls. Different battles and moments in the fight for Palaven covered most panels. She paused at one that showed quarians being overrun by reaper ground forces.

“Kal’Reegar?” she asked, the lump in her throat growing.

“Yes.” He turned her ninety degrees.

“It’s us, when we were fighting our way to the primarch.” She walked forward a little to see past a pillar. “And Adrien.” The primarch stood just as she’d first seen him, rifle in hand, calling encouragement to his troops from that bunker. A brute charged Shepard as she stood up on a rock outcropping, launching Droney to distract it while Garrus and James fought on her flanks.

She looked around, taking in the rich woods and stone, the immaculate mosaics portraying Palaven’s salvation. A wide smile spread over her face as she recognized Barl leading a mixed force of turian and krogan into battle. “It’s one of the most remarkable and beautiful things I’ve seen.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for showing me.”

He turned to nuzzle her temple. “Come on, let’s get back before we get into trouble. We have to do some handshaking before they start.”

After making their way through introductions to the rest of the nominees, Shepard was forced to leave him to make her way up to the visitor’s gallery. 

“Just breathe and look up at me if you need to,” she whispered. “I love you.” 

“And I love you.” He let out a loud sigh and gave a resolute nod. “I’m ready.”

“I know it.” After a kiss, she stepped back a couple metres to give the others a chance to wish him well. Sol and Gira joined her a few moments later, the three of them slipping their arms around one another.

Shepard watched Garrus, Kaidan and Herros joking and trading affectionate slaps on the back as they wished him luck. After a second, she realized that she was staring at her husband, a huge, radiant smile on her face. Glancing at the tarins to either side, she saw them watching their significant other with equally huge, foolish grins. They all made the realization at the same time and broke out laughing.

“We’re pathetic,” Sol sighed.

“Lost causes,” Shepard agreed. “It’s brilliant.”

“What are you three laughing about?” Herros asked as he and Kaidan joined them a moment later.

“We were just admiring the view,” Gira replied. “Now, let’s go find our seats, shall we?”

They made their way up to their seats at the front of the gallery directly across from where Garrus would speak. Sometimes having a primarch as a close friend had its advantages. Herros sat next to her and reached over for her hand.

“He’s ready,” he said, his voice full of that calm confidence that had won her over within moments of meeting him all those months before.

“He is.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and squeezed his hand. “I just hope I don’t lose him to all this. It’s so huge and overwhelming.” The weight of all of Palaven . . . all of the turian empire . . . hung over the massive, domed roof above their heads. Balanced on a pinhead, it pressed down, warning her how easily it could topple and crush everything. “All the times we talked about this, like it was just another job to be done.” A bitter laugh came out, snagged on all the thorns she hadn’t seen attached to the rose. “Children at the grownup table,” she sighed.

Herros tugged on her hand a little, turning her to face him. “Stop.” His blue-green eyes pierced the growing panic. “It is just another job, Jane. His main priority is not this.” He jerked his head toward the floor of the Seat. “It’s you and your family. We just need to make sure it stays that way.”

She released the rest of the tangled briars on a slow breath and nodded. “You’re right, of course. No panicking.” 

One at a time, eleven nominees entered the chamber. The sitting hierarchs voted to confirm each, all receiving the thumbs up despite a few doing so by a fairly narrow margin. After the vote, they stood before their peers to speak for a few minutes before taking their new seat.

At last stewards in archaic armour threw open the double doors and Garrus stepped through. Shepard slid forward on her chair, craning to get a better view. The Seat Herald stepped in the way, took a deep breath and belted out. “Garrus Shepard-Vakarian. Hero of the war against the Reapers. Key defender of the turian homeworld and colonies in the preparation for that war. Advisor to the primarch on fleet and troop deployment during that war. C-Sec officer and investigator with several years of distinguished service. 

“Advisor Shepard-Vakarian has been nominated to fill the seat of Hierarch First Tier, Advisor to the Primarch, Liaison to the Tier of Generals, Liaison to the Tier of Admirals, Hierarch of Internal Reconstruction.” The herald arched his neck and cocked his head a little as looked over the floor, impressing upon them the gravity of his words. 

Shepard just shook her head a little, one corner of her mouth lifting into a sardonic smile. At least until the herald moved out of the way and she could see her husband. Garrus stood at the head of the aisle, his feet almost as wide apart as his shoulders, back straight, head up and alert, hands clasped loosely behind his back. The black and gold suit made him look the part of an Admiral or General calmly overseeing his troops before deployment. Nothing in his manner said that he harboured a millionth of the doubt pounding through her veins. 

She leaned over next to Herros’s aural canal and sighed, her words whispering out on the breath. “He’s going to be primarch some day. Dammit.”

Herros gripped her hand and nodded.

Adrien stood behind his desk at the front of the room. “I call for the vote of peers. Is Advisor Shepard-Vakarian to be elevated to stand amongst those of the First Tier of Hierarchs? What say you to the affirmation?”

Garrus’s supporters stood and knocked their knuckles against their desks until the head count was complete. Once the bell tolled, they sat as smoothly as they had the other eleven times. Adrien had saved his most important nomination for last, wanting Garrus’s speech to be the message that rang in their ears as they left.

“What say you to the negation?”

A much smaller number stood and rapped their knuckles. A much smaller number, but still a number, and many of them looked to her as they decried his appointment. When all was said and done, the vote for vastly outnumbered the one against, and Shepard watched her husband voted into office with an enormous amount of awe, and a nearly equal amount of dread and sadness.

That moment marked the end of their old lives. Time to soldier ahead and find out what the terrifying future held in store. 

“With a tally of seventy-eight affirmations and twenty negations, the Turian Hierarchy has accepted and confirmed the nomination of Hierarch Garrus Shepard-Vakarian into the First Tier.” Adrien grinned and lifted his hand to invite Garrus forward to take his place amidst his peers.

Shepard rose in concert with everyone else in the chamber, rapping her knuckles against the railing in front of her to congratulate him as he strode down the aisle, nodding thanks to those who called out. At the head of the room, he took his place behind the lectern and gave a rigid, formal bow of his head. The noise died down, people retaking their seats to hear what the newest member of the Hierarchy had to say for himself.

Perching on the edge of her seat, Shepard watched him with glowing eyes and a thundering heart. 

Just before he spoke, Garrus looked up at her, held her gaze for a moment, then smiled and raised the backs of his talons to his brow. Her hand didn’t even wait for her to make a decision, fingers lifting to her brow as if they possessed minds of their own. A wide smile broke over her face as she kissed her fingertips and held them out before settling back into her seat.

“Look at him,” she whispered, her heart swelling until it felt as though it might explode straight out of her chest. “That’s my husband.” Herros gripped her hand once more. 

Clearing his throat, Garrus took a deep breath, and nodded his head in thanks, relaxing a little. “Some of you may be familiar with my bond-mate.” He smiled at the warm chuckle that rolled through the room. “She got me into a little bit of trouble four and a half cycles ago, and that trouble is the reason we are assembled here today, in this new chamber to form a new government.”

Garrus paused to look around the room at the many mosaics, his silence pulling his audience in. Shepard grinned as she saw his fellow hierarchs and the gallery all following his example.

“It’s inspiring, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low and filled with wonder as if his words were jewels freshly mined rather than practiced. “Nowhere in this chamber do I see panels depicting turians fighting alone, ranged against impossible enemies but driving them back. I see turians fighting side by side with krogan, quarian, and human, driving back the enemy as brothers and sisters. The war taught us that together, we are stronger than we could have imagined.”

He rumbled deep in his throat, a sound meant as a transition. “The war is over, but that truth remains, and what it means for Palaven and the turian people is evident all around us. We have a planetary space port that outshines anything that existed before the Reapers, and could only have been constructed in the time frame it was thanks to human recycling efforts, volus financial expertise, and asari manufacturing assistance. We have also built a military academy that will establish Palaven as the center of military training in the galaxy.”

Shepard grinned as he played his fellow hierarchs, pausing to allow them to consider that before he spoke again. He appeared born to the role, and in that moment, she knew that he wouldn’t just be primarch someday, but a beloved and long-remembered one. 

“The turian people came through the war in a stronger position than many of the races, but now the war is over, the real battles begin -- the battles to rebuild our families, or communities, our worlds, and the galaxy. They will not be easy battles, but we are a resilient, proud, and resourceful people. We can transform the rubble of Palaven into a hub that not only uplifts our people, but supports our sibling species during their recovery as well.” His voice built in strength as he spoke until the chamber rang with his certainty. 

Shepard swallowed the knot tangling around her vocal cords, her free hand lifting to press against the base of her throat. Herros’s grip on her other hand let her know that he was as caught up and blown away by his son’s speech as she was.

“I know,” Garrus continued, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate tone as if he addressed close friends, “that some of you are concerned that allowing for greater cooperation and interaction with the other species will weaken our cultural identity and traditions. I believe, in the end, the opposite will prove true. Our identity as a people and our traditions are strong enough to stand amongst others without collapsing. We have stood amongst the galactic community as sword and shield for centuries, but we possess strength far beyond that limited scope. Sharing the richness of what it means to be turian can only bolster our position as we emerge as leaders and partners, not only in the military arena, but those of culture, diplomacy, trade, and industry as well.” 

He looked up at Shepard, holding her gaze for a moment before he continued. “The Reaper War was an anvil upon which all the advanced civilizations of this galaxy were hammered; not destroyed, but forged into tools to create a bright, peaceful future for the generations to come. It was a coming-of-age that proved we are not children needing to be led by the stern voice of a few. As we must stand together to rebuild our worlds, we must also stand together to rebuild our governments, both at home and as a galaxy.”

He stepped back from the lectern, his hands clasped lightly behind him, his shoulders back, straight and broad. “The time has come for a galactic government that truly reflects our galaxy. One that responds to the needs of its citizens. Law and policy being set by a few for billions is no longer acceptable. A government that sits cloistered in fear, cut off from the very people they are meant to represent is intolerable, my friends. We live in a time of rebirth and renewal that must extend to address the inequality in representation and reluctance to act that cripples the current council model. A senate of elected representatives from each of the races is the future of galactic politics. It will not be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. Turians understand that better than most.”

Shepard smiled, covering her mouth with her hand as the assembly, hierarchs and spectators alike, rumbled their agreement, drawn in by Garrus’s passionate words. She watched him, seeing a thousand moments over the past four years reflected in his expression. The fiery passion for justice in the earnest C-Sec officer she’d met that first day. The quiet resolve in the face of undefeatable odds on Omega. The leader who’d carried her second teams through the Collector Base. The overwhelmed advisor trying to find ways to save as many of his people as he could through the war. The father finding joy in the future through his family. 

“Palaven must lead the way. We will stretch out our hands to our brothers and sisters of all species, helping to rebuild but also exchanging culture, knowledge, and traditions both on and off the battlefield. If we share our strengths, they will multiply to form a whole stronger than the parts could have imagined.” He held out his hand toward the mosaics. “Any who doubt the truth of that need only look to this chamber and remember that Palaven stands because a human believed that the krogan and turian peoples could set aside centuries of distrust and hatred to fight side by side. Surely, if a single human’s faith in us can bring us through the war, together we can build the galaxy we wish for future generations.”

Shepard stood as he stepped back from the lectern, tears escaping to roll down her cheeks. He hadn’t told her the last few lines. She thought it ended on the note that sharing knowledge and culture would make all the worlds stronger. In those moments, she just stared across the chamber, their eyes locked on one another, the entire assembly still, watching them.

Herros finally broke the moment by standing at her side, then rapping his knuckles on the railing, a movement that swept through the crowd like a flame.

Shepard kissed Herros on the cheek. “I’ll meet you all in the ballroom.” Brushing past the many greetings sent her way, answering them with warm smiles and promises to chat during the reception, she hurried down to the lobby, through the corridor and the huge double doors. The crowd moved against her, but she wriggled through until she reached the last tier of desks in the chamber, breaking free of the crush.

Garrus stood just in front of the lectern, surrounded by a small crowd of turians eager to grip wrists and discuss his speech, but when he spotted her, he excused himself and strode over to stand before her. 

“Well, how did I do?” he asked, mandibles fluttering in a relieved smile.

She took his face between her hands and stared into his eyes. “I have never been more in awe of anyone in my life. You were . . ..” She shook her head and shrugged a little, unable to find the words. Instead, she smiled and pulled him down to touch brows. “How did I manage to find the single most amazing torin in the galaxy?”

He smiled and closed his eyes, nuzzling her gently. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She slid her arms around him. “Crazy lucky. You were magnificent. It was all I could do to avoid standing up near the end and yelling, ‘That’s my bond-mate, people’.” She chuckled and bit her bottom lip for a moment. “Thank you, Garrus. Thank you so much.”

He pulled back and brushed her cheek with a talon. “You want to be remembered for things other than the war, and you’re right. It was the least of the miracles you pulled off.” He took a deep, slightly rattling breath, the only sign of his emotions. “You ready for the reception?”

“As I can be.” She nodded toward the small crowd still waiting to speak with him. “Go ahead and finish up here. I’ll go find Pari and Sol.”

Garrus shook his head and wrapped his arm around her waist. “We’re a team, they might as well get used to that now.” He led her back over to the waiting hierarchs. “ _Quiritus_ , I would like to introduce my bond-mate, Admiral Jane Shepard-Vakarian.”

Shepard gripped wrists with each of the hierarchs before being dragged into a serious, but friendly debate about the best way to begin the process to replace the council with a galactic senate. It took the stewards ringing the bells and the heralds calling everyone through for the meal to break it up. Even so, it poured over into dinner and beyond. The turian hierarchs surprised Shepard with their eagerness to hear her views and ideas. Most of them welcomed her into their circle warmly, but even those whose greeted her with reserve asked for her views. The fact that they appeared to really consider what she said gave her hope.

Perhaps the terrifying future might not turn out so terrifying after all.

 

 **Quiritus** \-- The turian equivalent of ladies and gentlemen. It applies equally to both sexes of any rank above citizen.


	9. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Garrus is a hierarch. Let the party begin! So... which do you want first? The good news or the bad news?

**August 3, 2188**

After the meal, Adrien and a few other notables gave short speeches to welcome the new members of the government and discuss the future of the turian empire. Adrien spoke with such passion and eloquence that Shepard had a hard time recalling the general she'd had to convince to take up the reins. She wondered if, during those nights they'd met wandering through the Normandy's lower decks and shared their feelings of inadequacy, either one of them could have imagined being where they were.

Adrien caught and held her gaze for the last few seconds, as if the same thought had occurred to him. She gave him a wistful smile in answer, then looked over to see Garrus watching her. Slipping her hand under the table, she wrapped her fingers around his talons.

Within moments of the speeches ending, the Stewards descended, moving everyone to the lounge for cocktails and dessert while they prepared the ballroom for dancing. Shepard didn't worry about dancing the way she once had, but still the idea of participating in the compulsory dances and stomping on the talons of Garrus's new colleagues made her stomach roll over. Why couldn't they have required some target practice or hand to hand as a getting to know you exercise?

"Admiral Shepard-Vakarian," a familiar voice called from just behind her.

Shepard turned and grinned, offering her hand to the grizzled admiral. "Admiral Hackett. It's good to see you, sir. What brings you to Palaven?"

"The relays working gave me the perfect excuse to escape my office for a while, although officially I'm leading a team of envoys to negotiate trade and manufacturing agreements for the military and public sectors. We have the most advanced recycling facilities remaining in the galaxy and a massive supply of materials to break down, so there's horse trading to be done." He sighed and removed his cap to run a hand over his hair. "We'll be holding elections next month so all the candidates are along, trying to distinguish themselves. Don't be surprised if they grab you and try to get endorsements." He settled the hat back in place.

Shepard shrugged. "They can try. If you didn't look like death warmed over, I'd say you were the best candidate, sir." She managed to keep a straight face as an expression of absolute horror crossed his face.

"Not in a million years, Shepard." He sighed as the corner of her mouth twitched. "Don't even joke about that, Shepard, or I'll recommend you to be Earth's first senate nominee."

She laughed. "Don't you dare." She turned as she felt a hand press against the small of her back. Smiling up at Garrus, she stepped aside as he shook Hackett's hand.

"Fine speech today, Hierarch Shepard-Vakarian," the admiral said.

"Thank you, sir." Garrus gave the admiral a stiff nod.

"I just hope the herd of politicians I brought with me listened to it. They're going to be the ones messing with our plans." He paused, a resigned shrug lifting his shoulders. "I suppose all we can hope is that we've laid a solid enough foundation that they can't tip us off it." Hackett looked over his shoulder as a husky, female voice called his name. "Speaking of." He straightened his shoulders and plastered a smile on his face. "I'm going in."

Shepard chuckled. "I'd offer to cover you, but yeah, you're on your own for this one, Admiral."

"I'll remember this, Shepard." He laid a hand on her shoulder, then hurried off.

"Maybe we should go over and introduce ourselves," Shepard suggested. "Hackett's right. Those people are going to be forming the new Alliance government. We need to make sure that the Alliance doesn't go rogue on us." She sighed long and grumbly as she looked up into Garrus's eyes. "And as much as I hate to use it, we have influence."

"And I am the hierarch in charge of reconstruction." He cracked his neck and squared his shoulders. "Might as well get friendly even before the meetings begin." He leaned down and touched his brow to hers. "We have about an hour's-worth of the formal dances once they start, then we can escape."

Shepard tilted her head up and kissed his cheek. "I'm fine. Don't rush on my account."

His deep, protective rumble rolled in his throat, making her smile. "You try to make me forget that a few days ago you were lying in the hospital, but I'm not going to let some ridiculous party endanger my mate or my son." Reaching out, he took her hand. "But, for now, let's go make nice with the humans."

They talked recovery and traded stories for twenty minutes, Garrus thoroughly charming the human delegation with his tales of getting accustomed to living with a human. Shepard chuckled, blushed, and elbowed him, but she just winked to the ambassadors and then repaid him with stories of her own.

When the bells rang to call them in for the ball, the tall, very formal fellow who seemed to be the forerunner to fill the Earth presidency took Shepard's arm for the first leg of the very long introductory dance. He spoke knowledgeably about what Earth and the colonies needed to focus on in order to recover, but something about his demeanour threw her. It felt cold, distant, as if the people involved were just statistics on a page. He changed the conversation to why Shepard wasn't running for office herself, ending with the inevitable request for her support. She begged out with the truth that she would have far too much influence, saved by a partner change to one of the older turian hierarchs.

For the next hour she switched partners every few minutes, the dance cycling through the same steps after each change. She made pleasant conversation with most of the hierarchy, male and female alike, the turians not having the cultural predisposition to male-female dance pairings the way human culture did. Then, nearing the end, familiar talons took her hand, and she smiled up into the gold, raptor eyes of the primarch.

"You and Garrus are proving to be very popular," Adrien teased. "I haven't been able to steal a word with either of you all day."

Shepard shrugged. "What can I say? We're endlessly fascinating." Chuckling, she leaned into his arms a little. "How about you, Primarch? How are you doing?"

He smiled and nodded. "Really well. Terrion decided to stay with me for a while. Once his school project is up and running, he might be inclined to move closer, but for now, I'm glad to have the chance to get to know him again. The work is progressing, all my nominees were voted in . . . things could be worse."

Shepard sighed. "I saw it today, you know?" She looked across the dance floor at her husband. Garrus was dancing with one of the human delegation. He had her giggling and blushing like a girl.

"Saw what?" His eyes never turned away from her face.

"That he'll be primarch one day, and they'll love him." Swallowing against the tangle of awe and fear that sunk barbs into her throat, she looked up into Adrien's eyes again. "You don't get to monopolize him, Victus. He deserves to have a life outside of duty to the galaxy. We both do."

Adrien cocked his head a little, the intense amber of his stare drilling into her, searching for everything she needed to keep hidden. After a moment, he leaned down, his face near her ear. "You're pregnant," he whispered then pulled back. "Congratulations."

Stiffening at his stepping through her boundaries, she met his uncertain stare with one of solid steel. "No one can know, Adrien. Balak can't find out. at least not yet." She pulled him in, desperate, fierce arms rigid even as she continued to dance. "I mean it, Adrien. All this doesn't get to steal my family. We didn't fight through everything just to have the planet and people's insatiable needs swallow us whole. He deserves love and family, peace and some damned happiness." She leaned up and kissed her friend's cheek then turned away to her next partner.

She finished the seemingly endless dance in her husband's arms.

"Are you having a good time?" he asked, pulling her in tight against him.

"Yes." She pulled back far enough to look up into his eyes. "Getting a bit tired, but it's been a wonderful day." Her hand moved from his shoulder to his cheek. "How about you? How's your day been?"

He pulled her back in against him, his brow pressed to hers. "Terrifying, and really . . . good." A soft laugh punctuated his apparent revelation. "It's been a good day." Nuzzling her brow, he let out a long breath. "It looked like you and Adrien were discussing something pretty intense."

She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest. "Yeah, he caught on to the fact I'm pregnant. I was telling him that it needs to stay quiet as long as we can keep it that way."

Garrus pulled back and gave her that sideways scowl that told her he knew she wasn't telling him everything. Before she formed an answer, the music paused, and a small cluster of his peers swooped in to surround Garrus. After being trapped on the dance floor for nearly an hour, Shepard took the opportunity to get something to drink and headed up to the bar.

"One cranberry juice and one _puala_ juice, please." She smiled and thanked the young turian then turned to look for Garrus. She walked over, slipping his drink into his hand, then faded back toward the tables, having had more than enough talk of politics for one day--something else they hadn't thought about.

Sol walked up behind Shepard, wrapped a long arm around her waist. "It almost feels like things are trying to get back to normal, doesn't it?" She chuckled. "Well, as normal as spending your life discussing tax subsidies and construction incentives can be."

Shepard smiled and hugged her sister-in-law against her side. "It sure does. Where's Kaidan?" She turned, scanning the crowd. One would think a black-haired human in a sea of turians would stand out, but she didn't see him. She did spot Admiral Hackett and waved, shaking her head a little as he made a subtle version of the Alliance 'combatant in distress' hand signal. He gave her a crooked smile in return before looking back to the multi-species group of dignitaries vying for his attention.

"Kaidan went to get us something to drink." Sol's mandibles fluttered. "Will you and Garrus have a few minutes for us once this is over?"

Turning to look her sister in the eye, Shepard frowned, not liking the tone running under the surface. "Of course, you don't ever need to book time with us, Sol. All you ever need to say is that you need to talk to us, and we're there." She leaned close, pressing her shoulder to Sol's. "You're worrying me, though." She glanced over at the orchestra as the music started back up.

Sol touched her brow to Shepard's. "Everything worries you." She pulled away and nodded to where Garrus twirled one of his fellow First Tier around the dance floor. "He looks great today. How's he doing?"

Shepard sighed and shook her head. "Most of the time he's fine, same old Garrus. Barl keeps in contact with me on the hour." A resigned, almost bitter chuckle broke from her lips. "I hate having to sneak around him, but I don't want him to feel like a five-year-old with an overprotective mother."

"Well, better that than disappearing again and aging us all twenty cycles." Sol smiled as Kaidan walked over to them and handed Sol her drink. She nuzzled the major's cheek then turned back to Shepard. "I take it that all his people are in place now?"

"Yes. His office looks like a spaceport there are so many people coming and going. A squad of four shadows him pretty much everywhere, but only Barl is meant to be visible." She smiled and turned to face Garrus as he walked over. He slipped an arm around her waist and upended his juice, drinking the entire thing in one go.

"Talking is thirsty business." Shepard hugged him against her side. "We just about ready to go?"

Gira and Herros made their way through the crowd to join them.

"You two ready to head home to our houseful of guests?" Garrus asked.

"Kaidan and I want to talk to all of you before we do that." Sol lifted her hand to tap her talon tips against her father's arm, interrupting his answer. "Could we go to your house instead?" The turian looked hesitant, even nervous for the first time since Shepard had met her. It didn't help alleviate the trembling in Shepard's gut in the least.

"Sure, Sol." Shepard glanced up at Garrus, who nodded. "There's furniture in the sitting room now."

"We need to say a few goodbyes," Garrus said, "so the rest of you head out. Pari, would you get the car? We'll be out in ten minutes." He held Shepard against his side as the others agreed to the plan and headed out. "Do you think that's good news or bad news?" he asked.

Shepard let out a long breath and shook her head, trying to convince her gut to ignore its misgivings. "I hope it's just the 'we're getting married' talk a little earlier than I anticipated."

For the next ten minutes, they said good bye to the key people, then hurried out to the car before anyone else could ask them for a minute. Thanks to an evening rain, the crowds from earlier in the day were all but gone. Their footsteps splashed along the black, reflective pavement to the car where they settled into the back seat, letting Herros drive. Shepard curled up against Garrus's side, her feet tucked in behind her, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder.

"That was a hell of a speech, Garrus," Herros said after they'd ridden in silence for a few minutes. "You have even the old guard talking about the benefits of sharing the glory of what it means to be turian with the other races."

"Thanks, Pari. It felt better than I thought it would. I thought I'd be nervous, but as soon as I started talking and saw that they weren't checking their omnitools for messages and talking back and forth, the nerves died."

Shepard took his hand and squeezed his talons, but closed her eyes and let the silence wrap around them, warm and gentle and comforting. No one did more than breathe into it until Herros landed the car in front of the new Shepard-Vakarian residence. Even then, nobody moved until Kaidan and Sol got out of their car. Shepard felt fairly sure that everyone felt the same twining vines of dread curling in her guts, vines that burst into bloom when she looked into Sol's eyes.

Shepard stopped outside the house and stared in the dark sitting room window. She suspected that the house had actually been ready to move into for weeks, but Gira slowed the process down hoping that they'd find Lenka before moving out on their own. The thought was greatly appreciated. She didn't know how she would deal with going from the _Normandy_ , to Gira's, to their own home if it was just her and Mercy a lot of the time. She really didn't.

Garrus opened the door and led the way inside.

"Do we have anything here to make _amarceru_?" Shepard asked.

Gira nodded and led the way into the caman. Shepard put water on to boil when Gira headed into the cupboard. Once the _amarceru_ was steeping, Shepard distracted herself by walking over to the table in the dining area. It was as beautiful as Gira's but laced along the edges with gold hammered into the wood to highlight the scene of an ancient village set in a clearing in a mountain forest. Shepard ran her fingertips over the wood and metal, feeling the silky warmth of the years of wear and loving care. Roots awaited her in that home.

Sol's voice from the sitting room drew her from her diversion and back into dread. Turning away from the promise of a future filled with the security that table promised, she helped Gira carry the _amarceru _into the sitting room. She passed Garrus and Sol their cups and settled on the butter-soft gold material of the sofa, pressing in against Garrus.__

__Sol took a couple of sips of the hot, thick tea before setting the cup down on the table. She took a deep breath, under which Shepard heard a very uncharacteristic tremor. Kaidan reached over to take her hand in both of his. The action was so tender that the vines crawled up Shepard's throat to wrap around the base of her tongue._ _

__"Kaidan and I have decided that we want to spend our lives together," Sol said, looking up and flicking her mandibles at Shepard as if daring her to crow about being right._ _

__Despite the teasing expression, Shepard found nothing reassuring in it. Nothing in the haunted, guarded look in Sol's eyes eased the horrible dread._ _

__Sol opened her mouth a couple of times, then glanced toward Kaidan._ _

__The major leaned over and kissed her mandible, leaning his brow against her temple for a moment before he turned to look at the family. "We want to have just a small wedding and bonding ceremony at the academy grounds at the end of the month. We need . . .." He broke off._ _

__"Sol?" Shepard asked, frowning to match her sister's. "This should be jumping around with happiness sort of news." Her heart dropped, literally skipping a beat as she saw the fear in Solana's proud bearing. "What?" She kissed Garrus's mandible, then pulled out of his arms and walked over to sit next to the silent female. Stroking her hand down the back of Sol's head, she stared into the pale blue eyes. "Tell us, love."_ _

__Sol leaned into Shepard, resting her head in the curve of her shoulder. "I have the genetic markers for Corpalis Syndrome, same as Mari." She took Shepard's hand in her talons. "The doctors have promising treatments if the disease develops, but Kaidan and I don't want to waste any time. We want to have children and build a life . . . make the most of the time regardless of what comes."_ _

__Feeling the 'but' at the end of that sentence, Shepard squeezed her tight._ _

__Herros stood and walked over to crouch in front of his daughter, laying one hand on her knee and one on Kaidan's. "Then that's what we do. You two are a perfect fit." He laid his hand against Kaidan's cheek. "The way you care for Solana fills me with joy, _pahir_. Our family has been truly blessed in our mates." His eyes shifted to look into Sol's. "And you, _diume_ . . . we'll face what the future holds together . . . all of us." He stood and bent over to touch brows with first Sol and Kaidan then returned to sit next to Gira._ _

__Sol looked up at Garrus. "You need to get tested, Twig. I know it's scary as hell, but knowing means being able to plan." Her head bobbed in a little, helpless sort of shrug._ _

__Shepard kissed Sol's cheek then moved back over beside Garrus. She wrapped her arm around him and laid her head against his shoulder, watching her family as they wrestled with the panic that Sol's diagnosis prompted. Damn. Who needed the Balaks of the galaxy when life threw more than enough enemies at them all on its own?_ _

__When Shepard saw resolve set in, her family's backs and shoulders squaring to meet the fight, she turned her head to look up at her husband. "She's right, love, and about more than getting tested. It doesn't always develop, but we should know so that it doesn't flank us."_ _

__A picture flashed through Shepard's head: Garrus, frail, barely able to move or speak, in agony every moment of the day. Frost crystals spread along the vines, freezing their tangled mass, spreading out until her skin rose in gooseflesh, and she shivered despite the warmth of the evening. She wouldn't let it happen. Denial roared over the arctic chill, incinerating it. No one was dying from that damned disease. Not Sol and certainly not Garrus._ _

__Garrus nodded and pulled Shepard in tight. "You're both right." He pressed his brow to hers. "I've got to do what's best for my family."_ _

__"Damn straight, I'm right." Sol smiled across at her dad. "None of us are alone any more."_ _

__Herros said, his voice soft, "No enemy is as fearsome once its face is known." Gira moved closer and wrapped her arm around him. He gave her a soft, turian smile and relaxed into her embrace, the revelation of finding love again obvious in his eyes._ _

__Shepard leaned up and kissed Garrus's cheek. "And we will. No matter what, we'll find a way through it." She pressed a hand against his scars and met his gaze with certainty. "That's what we do." After a moment, she turned a wicked grin to Sol and Kaidan. "And meanwhile, we get to plan a bonding ceremony. I'm thinking taffeta for the dress. A giant puffy cloud of it. And ribbons everywhere."_ _

__A rough growl rumbled from Sol's throat, gradually turning into a laugh. Her mandibles flicked once, then dropped, her beautiful ice jewel eyes tipping back and forth between sorrow and hope. "I . . .." She hesitated and looked down._ _

__"Sol?" Shepard tilted her head, already suspecting what Sol wanted to say._ _

__Her sister looked back, meeting her gaze, and sighed, giving that little shrug again. "I just hope Lenka can be there." She glanced to Kaidan, who nodded and bumped his shoulder gently against hers._ _

__Shepard's smile felt tight, flat and pale - starched sheets pulled military tight - but she nodded. "I hope so, too." Her smile relaxed and stretched. "I'm so happy for you two. Have you started looking for somewhere to live, or any of that? Or is this the first step?"_ _

__"First step," Kaidan said, sliding one hand out to wrap around Sol's waist. "We wanted you to know what was going on as soon as we figured it out."_ _

__Garrus looked to Shepard. "Well, the two of you are more than welcome to move in here until you can get a place of your own."_ _

__Shepard grinned and nodded. "There might be a spare bedroom or five . . .. We'll try to find somewhere for you."_ _

__"Thanks, you two," Sol said. "Being here with you and the kids will be great."_ _

__Gira leaned into Herros, looked up at him and smiled. "Should we get back and make sure our _amimahir_ and home are still intact?"_ _

__The family stood, trading embraces and brow bumps._ _

__Shepard wrapped her arms around Kaidan and pressed her cheek to his. "I'm so glad for you and Sol. You're the very best of men," she whispered in his ear._ _

__"I'm learning," he replied, his voice just a breath in her ear. "Slowly, dimly, I'm learning. Thank you, Shepard."_ _

__She kissed his cheek and pulled back, moving over to wrap Sol in a tight hug. "We are going to have the most fun planning this wedding." She pulled back. "Dammit . . . I still can't play in the turram match." Grinning, she pressed her brow to her sister's. "We're going to be able to raise our families together. It's going to be great."_ _

__Sol nodded. "And if the worst comes?"_ _

__Shepard pushed Sol away without letting her go, keeping her in the circle of her arms. "You never need to worry about that, Sol. Whatever you, Kaidan, and your kids need, you have, for life." She swallowed, the words . . . the oath . . . clearing out all the vines and the poisonous dread. "We're family. We're in this together, no matter what."_ _

__

____**Pahir** \- Son  
 **Diume** \- My joy. A term of love specific to a son, daughter or grandchild.  
 **Amimahir** \- Granddaughter 


	10. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenka, Lenka, where are you?

**August 3, 2188** (Earth Standard Calendar)

They didn’t speak through the five minute drive back to Gira’s. Shepard took Garrus’s hand when they stepped out of the car. He pulled her in against his side and wrapped a long, protective arm around her. Smiling, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his jaw next to his aural canal and whispered, “Let’s just be rude and leave Tali and the others to their own devices. We can entertain in the morning.”

Turning, he nuzzled her brow. “Deal.”

When they walked into the sitting room, they stopped dead. Sol snickered, then pressed her talons over her mouth. 

“Some wild party,” Shepard whispered, a wide grin spreading across her face. She released Garrus to tiptoe around the bodies and pizza boxes strewn all over the floor and couches. Mercy lay, sound asleep, on a pillow on the floor between Kenneth and Gabby, who’d encircled her to keep her from rolling off. Shepard lifted her, careful not to wake any of them, and then headed into the room. 

Mercy didn’t wake, so Shepard just laid her in her crib and covered her up. She slipped off her dress on the way to the closet and hung it up. Garrus entered, shutting the door silently behind him. Shepard cast a smile over her shoulder as she reached behind her back to undo her bra.

He took her hands and guided them back around her waist. 

Leaning down, he nuzzled her shoulder, his tongue drawing lazy lines over her skin. He inhaled deeply, purring low in his throat. “How do I forget to do this every time we’re in the same room?” he asked, his voice low and husky, the subvocals tickling low in her belly.

Shepard chuckled. “Well, it could get a little awkward if you’re referring to making out with my shoulder.” 

He nipped the curve of her neck. “Impossible woman.” He pulled her back against him. “There were a couple hundred people there tonight, smelling of everything from cigarettes to fear to some truly terrible perfumes, but through it all, like a stream cutting through a forest, there was you. The simple, perfect scent of you.”

Shepard turned in his arms and slid her hands up his chest to rest on the rim of his cowl. “You were amazing today, Garrus. I spent the day awestruck.” She looked down from his eyes to the fasteners on his tunic, her fingers undoing them, laying the center panel open. “My beautiful, intelligent, courageous husband.”

He shrugged the tunic off his shoulders. “Not sexy?”

She shook her head and crouched to undo the leggings around his spurs, her hands wandering up his thighs to linger over the seam between his plates on the way back up. “Always unbelievably sexy. That goes without saying.” A sweet mist cooled the outside corners of her eyes as she smiled up at him.

He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. “You had me worried there for a second.” He tossed it on her dresser then ran the backs of his talons down her arms then back up her center line to cup her jaw between them. “Make love to me?”

A soft smile greeted the familiar question. “Yes. Always, yes.” She helped him undress then led him to the bed. They laid on their sides, facing one another, hands exploring and caressing, their gazes locked. When he slid free of his plates, she hooked her leg over him, pulling their bodies together. Moving languorously, legs tangled, they whispered soft words of love and devotion, trading kisses as slow and deep as their joining.

When waves of pleasure faded to drowsy satiation, Shepard curled into his arms. Her eyes closed as her breathing slowed, her thoughts heavy and sluggish. She listened to Garrus breathe, knowing that he hadn’t fallen asleep yet either. As she did every night, she formed a picture of Lenka in her mind, allowing it to flesh out into detailed colour.

“Sweet girl,” she whispered to the dark, “wherever you are tonight, I pray that you’re safe and warm . . . that loving arms are holding you.” 

“We’re looking for you, pretty eyes,” Garrus said, his breath stirring Shepard’s hair. “We love you and miss you something terrible.” He pressed his mouth to Shepard’s brow. “I miss your hugs,” he whispered.

“Hang in there, baby,” Shepard said. “We’re coming.” When she opened her eyes, she saw Garrus staring right back. Shepard laced her fingers with Garrus’s talons and smiled. “I love you, husband.” She pulled their joined hands to her lips, then tucked them under her chin. 

He nodded, not breaking eye contact, his first talon caressing the line under her jaw. “And I love you, wife.”

They fell asleep that way, gazes locked but not fighting it as their eyelids gave in to the long day, and they drifted off.

*** * * * ***

Shepard looked around the meadow, taking deep, slow breaths, the peace and strength of the place working its way down through every fiber, every cell, every spark, colouring them all cerulean and champagne. Tilting her head toward the sky, she closed her eyes and stretched out her arms. Eudemonia eased the bonds between her cells and her thoughts, allowing her to flow up and out, pouring into the sky, a cloud of cool mist and contentment.

“ELSI?” she called without opening her eyes, not wanting to shatter the moment of blissful freedom from the prisons of skin and life.

“Yes, Shepard?” the AI replied.

“Are my immune system and implants still accepting my DNA and the baby?” The floating fragments began to condense back toward solidity.

“Affirmative. Environmental conditions within your uterus are optimal.”

The admiral chuckled. “That’s very good news, if somewhat . . . clinical, thank you.” She settled onto the grass, sitting cross-legged under the warm sun, eyes closed as she soaked in the peace.

“Hello, Mommy.” A small, feather-light hand rested on Shepard’s shoulder.

A shard of silver, moonlit joy pierced Shepard’s heart, and a soft whimper bled from her lips. Eyes snapping open, she spun toward the sweet sound of Lenka’s rolling little voice. A smile dawned over her face, bright and fierce to burn away the moonlight, and she reached up to lay her hand over her daughter’s. “Hello, my beautiful girl.”

“Come on, Mommy.” Lenka tugged at Shepard’s hand. “We can go for a walk.”

The admiral lifted onto her knees, wrapping the child in her arms, holding her tight. “Oh, I’ve missed you.” Kissing Lenka’s temple, she closed her eyes, inhaling the child’s scent -- soap, meadow flowers, and spice -- so much like hers. Savouring the almost forgotten feeling of her daughter pressed in tight against her, she whispered, “Where are you, baby?”

“I’m very close,” Lenka whispered, her thin, strong arms wrapping around Shepard’s neck. “Come walk with me, Mommy. Please?” Pulling away after a moment, the child grasped Shepard’s hand between both of hers and tugged.

Shepard stood, her entire body aching with porcelain joy; exquisite, beautiful and fragile, allowing her daughter to lead her across the meadow to the border of the forest.

Shepard hesitated at the edge of the forest, her heart beating hard and fast. So many monsters still lived there. She looked down at her daughter . . . her beautiful, brave daughter. “I can’t, sweetie. They’re still in there, and they’re so hungry.”

Lenka nodded and turned to look into Shepard’s eyes. ‘It’s okay, Mommy, there really isn’t anything in there. You know this is all just a dream. The monsters were made out of your fear and your guilt.”

Shepard smiled and nodded. “You’re so smart and brave.” She picked her daughter up and settled her on her hip. “Did you feel your daddy and me talking to you, tonight?”

Lenka giggled. “Mommy, you know that I’m not real either.” She kissed Shepard’s cheek. “I’m a creation sent to be your guide.” 

Shepard smiled and kissed her back. “Well, if you’re a guide, I guess I’d better let you lead me, huh?”

They walked in sundrenched silence for a time, the peace and comfort of holding Lenka in her arms again warming Shepard through. As they moved between the trunks, following the familiar trails of Shepard’s childhood, no monsters lurked in the shadows, whispering threats. Instead, precious moments gathered around them, hanging clear and delicate, crystal spirits shimmering in the air.

“There he is,” Lenka whispered, scattering their luminous audience. She wriggled and motioned for Shepard to let her down. “He’s sleeping.”

After a moment, she saw what the child referred to. Balak lay amidst the forest ferns, sound asleep in a small clearing. Shepard let Lenka down, and the child took her hand, leading her forward.

“Baby, wait a second.” Shepard pulled her to a stop and crouched down. “Whose creation are you? Mine or his?” As odd as it felt to hope it, she prayed that this Lenka came from Balak. Maybe if she did, some hope remained to gain information that would truly guide her.

Lenka smiled. “His, but I came because of you. You called to me.” She nodded toward the batarian. “Go, ask your questions.”

Shepard hesitated, clutching that small hand in hers. An anchor launched out of the hole at the center of her, catching hold of the figment. “I don’t want to leave you, yet. I’ve missed you so badly.”

Lenka giggled. “Which will bring me home faster? Standing here with an imaginary me or talking to him?” She stared up into Shepard’s eyes, unblinking.

Shepard sighed, a resigned smile on her face as she nodded. This Lenka possessed an edge that Shepard prayed stemmed from Balak and not her daughter. If they’d made Lenka hard, she’d kill the lot of them. Tarnishing a soul so beautiful and bright constituted an unconscionable sin. 

She crouched and pulled her daughter into another hug. “Will you be here to return with me?”

Lenka shook her head. “This is your dream, I don’t know where it’ll end.”

Shepard kissed her cheek. “I love you more than the moon loves the stars, sweet girl.” Standing, she held onto Lenka’s hand, unable to make herself let go. So many months of nothing but nightmares, and now to have her child before her . . ..

Lenka smiled and vanished. 

Balak grumbled and made waking noises, drawing her attention back to him. She clenched her fists into miniature wrecking balls to smash apart the wall of fear she’d allowed him to erect around her. She stalked across the clearing, wanting to keep the element of surprise. As she stared down at his naked, sleeping form, she felt . . . what was it? An echo maybe, of so many months before when they brought the batarian corpse aboard the _Normandy_ , and she wondered at the normalcy of the detritus they pulled from his pockets. Perhaps an echo of the turian assassin taking only the picture of his mate and children to his death. 

_We’re all so damned fragile_. 

But fragile or not, that mad bastard would bring the galaxy down around everyone’s ears if she allowed it. This new ability had advantages, and she needed to avail herself of every single one in order to get Lenka back and then to rid the galaxy of his madness for good.

After another moment of staring down at the slack flesh under pale olive green skin, she stepped around him to lie at his back. She rolled onto her side and leaned up on her elbow, her head resting in her hand. Staring at him, she watched him breathe and mutter. Judging by the noises he made, it wouldn’t be long before he woke.

When he did, he rolled onto his back and stretched, rubbing his lower set of eyes. Shepard smiled. Lenka always rubbed her eyes that way. Balak glanced over toward her, then back to the sky. It took a moment for his head to snap back around, his face horrified in a way that made the monster inside her howl with glee.

Shepard slid her gaze down his naked form and chuckled. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to sleep in the buff, Balak.” She shrugged, allowing a corner of her mouth to tug with a little gloating. “It’s metaphorical, I expect. The whole of your naked consciousness laid out before me like a really flabby buffet of secrets.” Reaching up, she pinched his bicep a little. “You must have stopped working out when you traded in killing people in favour of convincing others to do the killing for you.”

He scrambled up, covering himself with his hands, his mouth still gaping open with inane shock. At last, he found his voice, starting out with a stutter. “Sh . . . Shepard? Wh . . . wh . . . what?” He glanced around, as if trying to decide why he was there. “This is your dream.”

“Sure, it’s my dream.” Turning a little to look around, she nodded. “Yep, definitely looks like my dream. I suppose I just got lonely waiting for you to come and do your whole ‘ooga booga crazy man’ thing.” She sat up and crossed her legs, her arms resting across her knees. Even though she kept her face mildly cheery for his sake, seeing him like that unsettled her. It felt a little like the assaulted becoming the assaulter. A twisted sort of vigilante justice.

Balak backed away, watching her with an increasingly concerned scowl. The forest around them shimmered, transforming into a dim, candlelit space. Shepard squinted, trying to see in the dim lighting. To call the room a dichotomy was an understatement. Marble covered the walls and floor, but ragged old mats obscured the fancy stone, as if the batarian tried to disguise that he lived in luxury. Other than a pallet of blankets, a small table, and a wardrobe, the room sat barren. 

Balak dropped his hands and strode to the wardrobe, his entire body relaxed as if he believed her left behind in the forest. He confirmed that when Shepard stood, and he jumped, hand clutched to his throat. 

She ignored his reaction and looked around the room. “Someone had some money before the war.” She pulled back a length of sack cloth covering a window. A vast and beautiful garden spread out to a line of cedar trees. From her vantage point on the second floor, she could just see an dilapidated two storey wooden house on the other side of the fence. “What is this place?” She turned back, letting the sack cloth block out the light again.

Balak backed away from her, edging toward the door.

Shepard ignored him, instead, walking toward a collection of pictures stuck to the wall at haphazard angles. “What are these?” One showed a mostly destroyed factory. The background looked like Cipritine. Another picture showed a warehouse near the docks on Earth. She recalled seeing it, and walking over the ancient stone bridge displayed in the foreground.

“Get away from those,” Balak said, his voice tight. He walked up behind her, wary and slow. “How did you follow me?” He reached out and gripped her wrist, spinning her away from the pictures. 

Shepard grinned and shrugged. “Like I said, guess I just got lonely waiting for you. You know how I enjoy our little chats. Any fantastic prophecy for me? Anything?” She wrenched her arm free and turned back to the pictures. “So, you’re pretty protective of these. They must be important.” 

Looking down at her arm, she decided to see what she could do and activated her omnitool. “ELSI, can you record these images?”

“Shepard!”

“I can, Shepard. Recording.” 

“What are these, Balak? Bases?” She turned to look at him. “Is my daughter at one of them?” She turned and pointed at the warehouse on Earth. “Is she there?” He turned and walked away. “No, then.” When he didn’t look back, she followed, grabbing his upper arm and spinning him to face the photos. She dragged him back. “Where is Lenka, Balak? Which one?” She pointed to the factory in Cipritine. 

He wrenched his arm from her grip and backed away, glancing between his arm, Shepard, and the picture on the wall.

“Images recorded, Shepard,” ELSI reported. “Do you wish to terminate contact?”

Shepard glared at Balak. “Not just yet.” She closed on him, backing him into a corner. He puffed himself up, pushing back against her, finally starting to shake off some of the shock. She grinned. “Yeah, you’re seeing it, aren’t you? Things have changed, Balak. We’re going to become very, very good friends.” Winking, she took a step back. "I'll be seeing you very soon." 

She woke up. It took her a moment, but then she grinned and sat up. Damn if that hadn't worked. She laughed softly then leaned over to kiss her sleeping mate. "We're getting her back, Garrus. Dream about that." She kissed him again, but then Mercy cooed to herself in her crib, drawing her attention.

"Are you awake in there?" Shepard climbed out of bed and walked over to pick her up.

“Hey there, beautiful.” She kissed the baby’s cheek. “Did you have a good party with all the sleepyheads in there?” Carrying her daughter to the change table, Shepard fought the urge to let the rising tide of joy and excitement loose in peels of laughter. It had worked. She knew it with a certainty that made her giddy. Balak had given away Lenka’s location.

“Your sister’s coming home, baby girl,” she said, tickling Mercy’s belly. “She’s coming home.”


	11. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Lenka continues.

**August 5, 2188**

Shepard trembled at the edge of the ruins, every nerve alive with electricity, her fingers buzzing. Looking up at the fading light of the setting sun, she twitched, willing Adrien to get his butt back from his scout. What business did the primarch have scouting anyway? He was going to get himself killed and then what? She wasn’t ready for Garrus to be primarch. Good lord, would she ever be ready for that? No, Adrien had to live five hundred years and never retire.

Shifting from foot to foot, she sighed. Come on, Adrien. Time’s wasting. It hadn’t taken them long to move from her seeing the factory hanging on Balak’s wall to being there, ready to go in. Still, the impatience wore at her.

Behind her she heard Garrus rumbling, his subvocals coaxing her to calm, to be still and wait. She glanced back and nodded. She’d wait. Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to or lose everything. 

Adrien crept along a broken wall, picking his way through the broken bits of concrete, glass, metal and wood. He stumbled and whispered a good-natured curse. Shepard couldn’t help but smile even through her frustration and impatience. The primarch behaved as if Pertexa had stripped away the war, even the tragedy of Tarquin’s death, leaving him free to be happy and focus on life. If only she’d taken the same hit from the artifact, maybe she’d be able to find a way to feel both happy and terrified. Maybe she would have found a way to love Mercy and their life without her fear for Lenka tearing her apart.

“I love you, Shepard,” Garrus whispered. She smiled and looked back into his eyes to let him know she was holding together.

A strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her against her husband’s side. She leaned into him, grateful. So many promises made over the years, most kept, all that truly mattered anyway. Now she had three promises that mattered, none ever mattered more, and somehow she needed to find a way to keep all of them. Turning her head, she pressed her lips to Garrus’s cheek then rested her head on his pauldron as they watched Adrien make his way to them.

“It’s TPR for certain, but turian, not batarian,” the primarch whispered, taking cover beside them. “Guards all along the perimeter and guns, lots of guns. The back of the compound looks like they plan to lay siege to Cipritine.” He took a deep breath. “Everyone is in place, ready to move on your order.” He looked to Garrus and nodded.

“I’ll try to get all the way in without any bullets flying,” Shepard said. She nodded to the primarch. “Thank you, Adrien.” She kissed Garrus. “I love you. I’ll call when I’m ready.”

He nodded. “See you in a few minutes.”

Shepard crept away from them, staying low, not wanting to give away their presence. The whole plan hinged on her playing a successful game of ‘crazy woman acting alone’. Once she worked far enough away, she stood up and walked straight out onto the street. TPR had its uses, she supposed. At least they’d cleared some of the streets to move their heavy vehicles around. If only they could be convinced to put their efforts toward the common good.

She walked down the middle of their cleared street, her Mattock and Suppressor holstered and cold. Her part in the plan didn’t involve bullets . . . hopefully. She wiped some of the dust off her forearm guards, wondering when the four guards stationed along the top of the compound would see her. Her stomach trembled for a half second, then stilled. Once, she’d felt tremulous before wading into battle -- when she enlisted, Anderson had questioned whether she truly possessed the spirit of a soldier -- but Saren, Sovereign, and dying a couple of times seemed to have cured her nerves. 

_Imagine that._

“Intruder!”

The first one to spot her stood in the middle of the roof of the ruined station. She looked up and saluted him, acknowledging his superior ability to spot a person walking out in the open, making no attempt to use subterfuge. A frozen chuckle cracked through her lips and tumbled to shatter at her feet. 

Turian TPR. 

God, she hated that. It chilled her to the core. The batarians hating her made sense. She’d never blamed them for it. She hated herself for Aratoht. Turians, though. They hated her for being human, for living on their planet, and for falling in love with one of them. She could no more do anything about that than she could bring back those quarter million dead babies and mothers and old people.

A dry, barbed grief pricked down deep in her chest, a twisting porcupine quill working deeper into the soft meat at the core of her, but she shoved it aside. Very much not the time. 

“Identify yourself,” a second one yelled out.

_Way to struggle to look like you didn’t drop the ball, buddy._

“A close, personal enemy of your founder.” Shepard stopped far enough back that she could look up and still keep her eyes on them. She fought down a manic belly laugh. “In fact, I may be the entire reason the TPR exists.” Crossing her arms, she cocked a defiant hip, her head settling back to perch uneasily at the peak of her spine. 

“Shepard?” The first one to spot her strode down the wall to stand above her. He looked up, searching the field of ruins. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to look for my daughter. The government takes forever to plan a raid, get the people in place, approve everything.” She shrugged and switched hips. “It’s a huge pain in the ass, so I figured why bother?”

“She’s committing suicide,” the second one said and laughed, raising his assault rifle.

“You might want to consult your founder before you do that.” A moment of wonder at her continuing lack of nerves brushed through her mind. Did she owe the steady hands and clear voice to her surety of Balak’s protection or something darker? The black hole yawned wide and stretched its claws, letting her know that it hadn’t gone anywhere. “He has a wee bit of a temper and more than a wee bit of an overprotective side when it comes to me. The last fellow who shot me bled out in front of a crowd of a thousand or so. If you killed me, I’m sure you could count on living for quite a while as his minions carved pieces from you to feed the varren.”

The first one paced a few metres down the wall and back, then looked down the other side of the wall. “Get Pendan.”

Shepard walked a few steps and leaned against the ass end of a skycar. “I’ll be here.” She felt Garrus’s scope on the back of her neck like the warmth of his hand. She had no doubt that all four sentries would fall before her shields went down, but that meant carving their way through the base, and as much as the darkness loved the idea of cutting through the enemy, doing so put her objective at risk.

Forcing the thought of her objective from her mind, she concentrated on getting inside the gate without going through feet first. As sure as she’d been of Balak’s thinking two nights before, she had no reason to hope. Raised hopes led to small shards of her heart crushed under the heel of disappointment. The months had diminished her reserve of hope to a few crumbs rattling around the bottom of an empty basket.

“Shepard.” Her name came out of the dual larynxes sounding like both a question and a challenge. A turian in heavy armour strode through the gate, stopping a few feet away. “You want me to let you walk in and search our base for the batarian child?” He laughed and glanced behind him, either a bully looking to his back up men for courage, or an uncertain leader making sure he had a way out. It almost made her sad. What story of tragedy led him to that place and position? Probably one much the same as everyone else since the Reapers arrived and began tearing everything apart.

She pushed off the skycar and strode up to meet him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He stretched up, looming over her, but she just sighed and cocked a hip, her arms returning to their naturally folded position. 

“What is that on your face?” Pendan growled, stepping into her. “Do you think you’re a turian now, Shepard?”

She chuckled, dry, hard, and full of teeth. “Not at all. I am a bond-mate to one, and wished to honour his traditions and family during the ceremony.” She grinned, her eyes flashing like a blade in the moonlight. “It’s strange that you’re offended by it. You’d think the fact that a human wanted to honour turian traditions would be a good sign.”

“A good sign? A pathetic, pink meat sack like you mating with a turian? It makes me sick.” He spat at her feet.

“Oh, well then, I should just go back and let the Reapers have Palaven, since this pink meat sack is so distasteful to you.” She stepped forward, pushing him back. “You want to hate me because you need someone to blame for this mess, fine. Hate me. I can take it. A lot of people hate me. But call it what it really is.” 

Nodding past him, she shrugged. “Not what I’m here for this evening, however. So, shall we go in and get this over with? I have excellent information that I’m going to find my daughter here.”

He tried to push her back, but she held her ground. “You aren’t going in there, Shepard. How about we just shoot a bullet through your head and put you out of our misery?”

Sighing, she let her ribcage deflate, shrinking down into herself. “You know that I took down Saren, right? Destroyed the entire race of the Collectors. Oh, and the small matter of the Reapers. They were a couple of kilometres taller than you, and a lot more grumpy.” She reached up and wrapped a companionable arm around his neck. When he jumped back from her touch, she tightened up just enough to warn him what she could do given a chance. “I took one of their destroyers down on foot, just me and a targeting laser.” She patted his cheek with her other hand. “So, what do you think your odds of intimidating me are?”

Trembling with fury, Pendan made no reply other than to glare at her.

She led him toward the gate, still gripping his neck. “You’re going to let me in because otherwise I’ll snap your neck, pull my Suppressor and put all those men down before they know what hit them. Then I’ll go through the gate and room by room, kill every single person in there.” The darkness howled with glee, lightning striking around the event horizon. “I’ve done it before. The mission on Aratoht . . . took out the entire guard population of a batarian prison, and an entire station full of Reaper agents . . . alone. How many here are soldiers? How many civilians?” 

Through her little speech, she never felt her heart rate change. No fear, no hesitation, no moral wavering. Ice spread out from the black hole, crystals crackling through her organs to draw the silhouette of who or what she’d need to be. The darkness promised that she could do it, whispering how sweet the release would prove as it drew the shape of the monster. As much as she desired to find other routes, as much as she yearned to leave it behind, life had shaped her into a killer.

She looked past that familiar outline and through the gates beyond it to see families ducking into doors. Terrified, thin faces of females and old people disappeared into the gloom, hiding from her. Their fear smacked her like a frozen hand as she realized that if she went through with her threat, she would become everything they thought she was. She’d make them right. 

Taking deep breaths to avoid throwing up over his boots, she stopped at the entrance and pushed the darkness back into the hole. 

_Are you ready to step over that line, Shepard?_

“And here we are.” She rubbed the heel of her hand over the pistol’s grip. The ice spread into the chunky little muscle at the base of her thumb then cracked. No. No. 

_Could you go home tonight and hold your baby having filled in that silhouette, brought it to life?_ f

Snatching her hand back from his neck, she formed a prayer that he would do things the smart way. Deciding the words that made up her prayer would have more effect spoken out loud, she cleared her throat and took hold of his elbow, turning him to face her.

“I’ve retired,” she whispered. “I don’t want to kill any more, and I certainly don’t want to kill those people in there. I just want to raise my kids and teach the next generation to be good, honourable soldiers. I want to curl up in my husband’s arms at night and make love to him. Normal stuff, you know? We can all walk away from this.”

“She’s not in here. You’re insane.” He reached for the gate, his talons stalling partway there.

Pulling him back, she leaned close, her words scarce more than a hiss. “Prove she’s not inside, or I’ll prove that you’re oh so very correct about my mental state. Balak shattered me in two, you see, taking Lenka. On one hand, I’ve got this beautiful baby girl.” She grinned up at him, even there, in the growing dark, enemy guns pointed at her, her heart swelled with the thought of Mercy. “She makes me so happy that I quite honestly feel insane around her, because right next to that beauty, I have this terror and pain. It’s constantly clawing a hole straight through me, because I don’t know where my other baby is. I don’t know if she’s being looked after or tortured . . ..” She stopped and grasped his upper arms, holding him away from her.

“Do you have children?” she asked. “Are they still with you?” Her head tilted a little to one side, almost of its own volition. Curiosity sparked bright and keen. Suddenly, she wanted to know the man, understand what made him tick. He didn’t seem to be a militant ass. He seemed afraid.

He stared into her eyes, his deep brown ones uncertain, but no longer full of hatred. “I have three. All young. All inside these gates along with my mate.”

A genuine smile cracked some of the ice, and it fell away. “Good, I’m glad for you. What would you do if someone stole one of them?”

His stare deepened for a long moment then he reached out and opened the gate. “Make it quick, and keep your hands away from your guns.” He preceded her through, two others falling in behind as they strode down a wide entry corridor. The walls and ceiling above her bore terrible scars from the war. Patches of wood and plastered-in rubble threatened to collapse if she sneezed too hard.

“Your people live in this?” she whispered. She didn’t require him to reply with the answer staring her in the face. The Apostles had so much more. At least they had protection from the sun and rain, roofs to hold in the heat of fires at night. She and Pendan stepped through ten uncovered doors to look in on families huddled together on mattresses and ruined couches on the floor.

“Do you own this land?” she asked, stopping at the end of the first hallway. “Is that why these people are here?” 

He grumbled, but nodded. “This was my place of business. Warehouse, factory, and store front.” He shook his head and gestured for her to proceed around the corner. “It was just another day. Place filled with employees . . .. A massive explosion and most of the building just disappeared along with over fifty workers . . . friends.”

Shepard nodded, but remained silent, honouring his grief. Room after room of bedraggled, starving turian old people, adults, and well grown teens passed before her. “Where are all the children?” She stopped and turned to him. “Where are you hiding the children?”

He returned her stare, still wary, not that she could blame him. 

Walking a few strides down the corridor, Shepard crouched next to an elderly female. Reaching into her hip pack, she pulled out the dextro ration bars she carried there in case Garrus needed them and laid them in the female’s lap. Without standing, she pivoted on her toes, her boots leaving marks through the ash and grime on the floor as she looked up at Pendan.

“How many die here every week?” she asked, her voice soft, reverent. The whispers of the dead and the terrible grief of the living fluttered around her: transparent, blue and grey butterfly wings..

Pendan shrugged with a bob of his head, then tilted it, cracking his neck, and Shepard knew that the same wings she felt as whispers felt like bludgeons to him. 

“Four last week,” the little female said, rough and exhausted. 

Shepard looked back and reached out to touch the tarin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for the food,” the turian said, “but it should go to the children.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said, her voice carried on a sigh. “You keep those, and I’ll get some more for the children, how’s that?” Shepard patted her shoulder and stood, waving to Pendan, drawing him over to a broken, filthy couch in a corner away from the others. She sat on one arm and motioned for him to sit on the other.

“Is this the TPR on Palaven? Places like this?” she asked when he sat. Looking up at the guards, she shook her head. “Do they actually hate outsiders, or just really need their families looked after?”

It took him a long time to answer her, alternately staring at her then looking around at the squalour. A war played out across his features, steel replaced by fire that damped to ash. She watched the torin emerge through the militant as he managed to pull all the elements together. 

“Mostly it is this. TPR approached community leaders across Palaven, promised a means to look after our families and protect ourselves from outsiders.” The steel returned, heated by fire. “They promised that once the relays opened, the humans and asari would try to take our world, fight to dominate the galaxy. Palaven is a world of strength, conquering what remained of us would give the victors a strong arm to subjugate the rest.” 

Shepard nodded, the entire plan turning to water around her, even the urgency to find Lenka retiring to the back of her mind in the face of the misery before her. She softened and warmed, the torini around her doing likewise. “And what have they given you? Shelter? Food? Heat?”

His glance toward the assault rifles in the hands of his people told her what she needed to know. 

Shepard stood, towering over those taller, her eyes searching out all the pairs that stared at her from the shadows. “Does anyone here have skills? Anyone here able to build? Any artisans? Weavers? Farmers? Loggers? Anything.”

Pendan stood, but she held out a hand, asking rather than demanding his forbearance. “Please. I came here for my child. Allow me to have come here for yours as well.” She smiled, asking him, through that simple facial expression that most turians didn’t even understand, for a moment of trust so they could change everything.

“I am a weaver,” the elderly female said, holding a hand out for one of Shepard’s guards to help her off the ground. 

The male lifted her gently to her feet, then offered her his arm before turning back to Shepard. “I worked here, in this building, making furniture.”

“Do not get their hopes up,” Pendan hissed, leaning in. “There is no money, no equipment. We can’t even hold the filth at bay.”

Shepard nodded and pointed to the elderly tarin. “I’d better see you eating next time I look over.” To Pendan, she said, “We need to speak, alone. Then you need to let me see the children.”

He sighed but waved for the others to leave them. “I swear to you, the only batarians here are orphans picked up out of the rubble. There are no adults at all.”

Shepard sighed. “I believe you, but still, I’ll look, as you would in my place.” She sat back down and turned to face him. “There is an entire division of turian external forces surrounding this place. They were waiting for me to send a signal that I had found or not found Lenka.” Waving him back down when he jumped up, she shook her head. “Things have changed. My only exposure to the turian TPR since I arrived on Palaven was being assaulted at the docks and death threats aimed at my husband. This . . ..” She held up a finger, looping it slowly to encompass the building and its inhabitants. “This changes everything.”

“How?” He bristled, his hand hovering over his sidearm. “You don’t call them in to kill us all?”

“The plan was never to kill you all, and I will call them in, but I want to call them to bring food, water, wood, blankets.” She sighed. “But that would just be a bandage. We need to do something a lot bigger to turn this around.”

“Are you going to conjure resources out of the air?” His laugh echoed, a harsh bitter bark through the damp, dank corridors.

“No. I mean to have the Apostles and TPR actually do some good.” As she spoke, she understood what the foundation was meant to do. All the money snatched from Balak would improve these people’s lives and help stabilize the planet, perhaps Earth as well, given time. “The military academy will buy all your weapons in exchange for building materials. You will sign this property over to a foundation that will provide its worth in materials to rebuild your factory with enough housing for the people you shelter to live properly. You will provide all the labour. When you have your factory up and running, you will create products for the academy and to help others transform squallour into operational businesses and safe havens.”

He stared at her, each thing she said dropping his jaw a little lower. “You’re mad.”

“Could you make it work?” She held that stare, challenging him. “You’re right. This is a planet of strength. My husband is the most remarkably strong, resilient individual I’ve ever known. He’s also one of the most proud.” She shrugged and shook her head. “I wouldn’t change any of that about him, nor would I want that to change for your people. I’m an enemy to no one here, Pendan.” She looked around. “Palaven is my home, now. Let me help her.”

He looked understandably overwhelmed and confused. “If I believed you . . .. If I wanted to do this . . .. How would we start?” 

“You let me call my husband and get those supplies to these people tonight. Tomorrow you sign this land over to the From Ashes Foundation, and we go from there.”

He bristled at that. “This is land I worked hard to purchase. Why should I just sign it over? Is that how Earth plans to conquer us? Trade our planet for our lives?”

“Not at all.” Shepard let out a loud, nasal sigh. “The land is a guarantee that everything given to you is used for the purpose of rebuilding. You give, you get. The foundation will give you the full purchase price paid in building materials to repair and rebuild it. Later, when the planet has recovered, the deed will be turned back over to you. We’ll draw up proper, galactically legal, binding contracts. But that is not tonight. Tonight, we make sure that your people eat and stay warm.” She stared at him until he nodded. Odd how less than an hour before, she’d been threatening to break his neck and kill his people. 

He let out a long, whistling sigh. “Not all TPR will go along with this. They’ll consider us the enemy for turning our back on them.” Standing, Pendan paced halfway down the corridor, his eyes fixed on his feet, back rigid and brittle. She didn’t envy him the decision. She didn’t envy him the leap of faith he’d need to make.

“What happens after tomorrow?” he asked without turning back.

“You show up at the academy with all your weapons, except for enough to protect your people against the wildlife and raiders. I mean all of them, the tanks, the missile launchers . . . every single thing that TPR has given you to destabilize our world. If it can be used to destroy rather than build, you bring it, and we’ll purchase it.” She set the last idea out there for him to chew on, to see how it tasted that the people he’d turned to in order to save his people had given him nothing but the means to kill.

“This is insane,” he muttered, kicking at the ash. “I should have just told them to shoot you outside the walls.”

A pointed chuckle lodged in her throat, she nodded. “Hell of a lot easier for us both. Little more final for us both as well.” She waved a hand toward the elderly female, the clusters of families waiting for Shepard to leave so their children could come out of hiding. “These people can have their pride and their lives back, Pendan. They can take care of their families. Isn’t that worth a little trust?”

He turned and met her eyes. After a moment, he nodded. “Make your call.”

A wide, truly happy smile spread across her face, accompanied by no pain or remorse, no terrible feeling of being pulled in two. This was for Lenka. If she was hidden with TPR somewhere, it might take a while, but what they’d started there would reach her. 

“Okay, let’s get these people fed.” She reached up and opened a channel. 

“Shepard.” Garrus sounded like he was poised to leap through the radio. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m better than all right. The leader of this enclave and I have come to an accord. I need enough food, water, blankets, and clothing, if we can find it, for . . ..” She looked to Pendan.

“One hundred and eighty three people,” he supplied.

“For one hundred and eighty three people. How fast can we get it here? It’s getting dark and there are a lot of cold, hungry people.”

Her husband let out a long sigh. “You’re a crazy woman. Okay, I’ll be down in a few. I’ll send Adrien back to take care of the . . ..”

“No. Garrus, bring him down with you, Dad, Sol and Kaidan. I’m asking these people to trust their families to my plan. How can I do that if I show no trust? I’ll talk to Pendan, make sure it’s not a surprise. I’ll throw myself over Adrien if I have to.” She grinned as he muttered and grumbled on the other end. “Thank you, love. I’m going to go look in on the children.”

“You’re impossible.” 

She smiled as she heard the love rumble underneath his grousing. “Yeah, but you love me anyway. See you in a few minutes.” 

Closing the channel, Shepard turned back to Pendan. “Okay, there will be a lot of people showing up here in a few minutes, starting with nearly everyone who means anything in this universe to me. I said that you give, you get. You gave me some trust, and now I’m giving it back. One of the people coming down here is the primarch. I’m trusting his safety to you and your people.”

“Adrien Victus?” Pendan rushed up to her. “He’s here?” He looked to the elderly woman and the guard still standing with her. “Show the admiral to the children. Spread the word that the primarch and some soldiers are coming, but they’re bringing food and water. They aren’t going to hurt anyone.” He strode down the corridor, but just to turn back. “No one is to open fire. Have everyone meet in the main warehouse.” 

Shepard watched Pendan, a little confused herself at his behaviour. “Primarch Victus will be safe here?” she asked, hesitating with her hand already halfway to her ear..

“Safer here than anywhere in the galaxy.” He gave her a slow, turian smile. “Your turn to trust, yes?” He tossed a hand toward the elderly woman. “Allow Tenara to take you to the children.”

Shepard nodded and backed away from him, trusting him despite not having the faintest clue why. His manner seemed manic. Her alarms should be going off, but they remained quiet. After backing away a couple more steps, she turned and followed the elderly female into the interior of the compound.


	12. Mass Effect -  The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's search for Lenka continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, so sorry to those of you who don't read on FFN. I had this chapter written for eons, posted it there, but not here. I am a bad, bad Kim. New chapters coming again every other week for now.

**August 6, 2188**

“Pendan spoke the truth when he told you that there are no batarian families here,” Tenara said, her voice soft, apologetic. “I’m sorry that your kindness is rewarded with further worry.” She limped between pieces of the building too large to move. “The children are two boys . . ..” A weary, used up keen warbled in her throat, and she shook her head. 

Shepard could see more than any one person’s share of sorrow and loss etched into the elderly female’s gaze. Still, enough compassion and love remained to mourn the suffering of two alien orphans. 

Tenara sighed. “I shudder to think of what they’d been through, for neither speaks a word, not even to cry or express fear. Both are gravely injured. We’ve done what we can for them, but it’s not enough. They need a proper surgeon and medications that we just can’t afford.”

Each step Shepard took came harder than the one before, her limbs seizing, doubt oxidizing the joints until she ground to a rusted halt. How could she face those innocent lives, see their suffering and walk away from them back to Gira’s warm, loving house and the laughter of her baby? 

“Admiral?” Tenara stopped and turned back, a hand drifting toward Shepard’s arm. 

The admiral nodded to ward off the comfort and looked up the ruined hallway, her eyes seeing the frozen, silent interior of the ship where they’d tracked that intermittent lifeform reading to the tiny, terrified batarian. “We found Lenka alone on a transport. She’d been trapped there for months. I fell in love with her before we got her back to our ship.” She took a deep breath, reality breaking through memory.

Tenara’s mandibles flicked, and she nodded as if she understood. “Most of these little ones have families, so you needn’t worry about whether they are loved. The orphans run amidst all of us, getting care and affection from everyone. Food in their bellies and shelter over their heads are all they need to prosper, Admiral.” She smiled again. “Come, we will set them loose from their studies to run like drellak yearlings.” 

Giving the tarin a sad smile, Shepard nodded and followed. She’d never spent any time around turians as children. A glimpse into Garrus and Sol as youngsters felt like a priceless gift.

Tenara opened a door on the inside of the corridor. Tables lined the center of the room, low chairs around the outside, but they all sat abandoned. At the head of the room, a young female crouched in the center of a group of youngsters, telling them a story. Shepard grinned. All joints and long, thin limbs; loose and eager, the youngsters tussled and wriggled even as they listened, everything about them made to run and play. Even in the squalor left over from war, pure joy glowed within them, bursting like tiny novas through every action. Lenka had bounced and wriggled with happiness and excitement like that.

Shepard looked away from the cluster of turian children, her gaze drawn toward two little batarians sitting off to one side. One hunched over his desk, either writing or drawing, his concentration so intense that he didn’t even register the stranger who’d entered the room. He glanced up at his companion, holding something out in query, but when he received no acknowledgement, turned back to his work.

The other just sat slumped in his chair, staring at something in his hand. He didn’t move, didn’t show any sign of being aware that other people inhabited the same space. If it hadn’t been for his eyes blinking every once in a while and the slight, tremulous flutter of his chest, she’d have thought him dead. Seeing the injuries to his head and the deformation of one arm, strapped to his body in a sling, she couldn’t see how he still drew breath. Some monster had beaten that tiny child within a hair’s breadth of death.

Her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn. They needed to get those two to the hospital if nothing else.

“You can all return to your families now,” Tenara called out. The turians leaped up and ran for the door, laughing and jostling like colts. Despite showing curiosity at Shepard’s presence, they did little but gawk at her as they sprinted past, far too eager to be free to pause.

Shepard watched them leave, then walked toward the two batarians. If any ice remained at her core, those two shattered it, melting it into unshed tears as it fell away. 

Dull and listless, his actions almost slow motion compared to his turian peers, the healthier batarian boy stood, preparing to follow the others. Where the turians raced past her, the batarian boy stopped in the middle of putting away his writing supplies, meeting her stare for a couple of seconds before he returned to his work. 

Understanding that unless she came bearing something to ease his suffering, she meant nothing to him, Shepard turned to Tenara. “We need to get these two over to the hospital at the academy tonight. What the hell happened to them?”

The tarin gave a helpless shrug. “We found them in the rubble a couple hundred metres away. The stronger one, Jon’darl, was standing guard over his friend. He attacked the squad who found them.” She turned, directing Shepard’s attention to the second boy who still hadn’t moved. “The little one was unconscious. When we were able to get to him, we gave him what medigel we had and splinted the arm, but he needs surgery.” She made the soft keen again. “The older one won’t let us near the little one. Unless we ask Jon to get him, he’ll just stay there. Unless Jon feeds him, he won’t eat. Something inside him is broken, and each morning when he wakes, I am surprised.”

Shepard walked up to the first boy, running a gentle hand over his head. “Hello.” She smiled as the little body placed himself between her and his friend. Shepard crouched. “I’m not going to hurt your friend. I want to get him some help . . . take him to a doctor.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Would that be all right?”

The larger boy nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll be really gentle, I promise.” She stood and walked over to squat next to the second boy’s desk. The poor battered little soul still clutched something in his hand. 

The admiral swallowed the barbed wire in her throat, a sad smile touching only the corners of her lips. His face was so beaten, swollen and bruised that his four eyes were all that identified him as batarian. Even his cheek folds had vanished beneath the mask of injury. 

“Hi there,” she said, keeping her voice soft. She leaned up, peering at his clenched fist. “Looks like you’re holding on to something pretty important there. Can I see what it is?” She reached out to cup the small fist in her palm. The hand opened, revealing the broken end of a crayon. A hiccuping sob escaped Shepard’s throat before she clamped down on her sorrow. “You like to colour?” Swallowing another couple of feet of razor-sharp wire, she cleared her throat. “My daughter loves to colour.”

The boy clenched his hand around the crayon again, his feet shoving his chair back. He stood and turned to face her, and as he looked up, their eyes meeting, his filthy knuckles turned bone white, the small fist clenching down hard.

The room around Shepard disappeared into a haze of filth and burned out concrete. Only the little batarian remained in focus. Nothing about the child struck her as familiar. Not his body, long and impossibly skeletal, nor his face, emaciated and swollen, deformed and bruised a ripe, rotted black-green where she knew crushed bones resided within. 

The boy was a complete stranger, but for his eyes. Her heart cracked like dry wood as a firework of pain exploded inside her chest. His eyes.

“Oh no.” Shepard fell forward onto her knees, her limbs numb, trembling and suddenly as cold as an antarctic winter. Her stomach heaved up a mouthful of sour vomit. “Oh no, please god.” Sorrow ripped through her from head to toe, the barbed wire spooling out to form a garotte.

_Her eyes._

The child’s stare flipped from dull to enraged in a single blink. A shrill, furious howl screamed through the space as she hurtled forward, leaping onto Shepard, shrieking a wordless rampage of fury. That one, tiny fist pummeled Shepard’s head, but the admiral didn’t feel the blows through the horrified agony.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Shepard whispered, her arms wrapping around the thin, furious child, hugging her even as the blows rained down. She tipped over onto one hip, wincing at the shrill cry of pain the jarring motion ripped from the child. “Oh my girl.” Tears, thick and hot, filled her head, drowning her as they refused to come out her eyes, refused to grant her any release . . . or relief. “What did they do to you, my beautiful baby?”

The child’s screams of rage faded into cries of pain as she struggled. Shepard could hear the larger boy fighting with Tenara, trying to get to Lenka and protect her. 

“Sh, please, Lenka . . . sweetheart,” Shepard whispered, caressing the frail back, wincing at every boney ridge, every swelling. “Stop fighting, Lenka. Please love.” She held on enough to contain the little girl’s struggles, but loose, trying not to injure her any more than she’d already been hurt. “Please baby girl, stop.”

“You sent it away!” Lenka wailed, words breaking through the rage at last. “Let it go, Shepard! You sent it away to them.”

“No, love. Never.” Shepard kissed her, a gentle hand stroking the back of her head. “Never. I love you more than the stars love the moon. Oh precious girl, we’d never send you away. They stole you from us.” She pressed her cheek to Lenka’s scalp. The child was burning up. Shepard needed to get her to Karin and fast.

A doll whose batteries had been pulled, the child collapsed into Shepard’s shoulder, crying hard and wrenching. “You promised no one would ever hurt it again. You said you loved it.”

Shepard held her in gentle arms, hugging her close. “Oh, sweetie, we do love you. So much. We’ve been searching for you from the minute they stole you.” Reaching up, Shepard opened a channel. 

“Shepard?” Garrus said, his voice sounding both incredulous and amused. “You need to see this.”

“Garrus,” she said, choking on the word. “Garrus, I found her. We need to get her to the hospital. She’s hurt, Garrus.” Struggling to her feet, Shepard clasped her child lightly in her arms, the impossibly frail body draped against her shoulder. She kissed Lenka’s temple. “She’s so hurt.”

“What?” A combination of joy and terror jumped through the radio. She heard him running even before she turned to Tenara, nodding for the female to lead her back through the maze to the gate. His voice came through breathy and tight. “Where are you?”

“On our way back to you.” Shepard keened softly in lieu of tears. Pressing her cheek against the back of her daughter’s head, she picked her way back. “God, Garrus, she’s so hurt.” The next cry came out as a sobbing hiccough. “Those bastards hurt my baby.” She swallowed everything she wanted to say, all the furious, hateful bile that burned its way up her throat like magma. Instead, she whispered soft, sweet nothings and pressed kisses to the bruised and sliced scalp.

“Mercy is going to love you,” Shepard said, keeping her voice low and soft. “I’ve told her all about her big sister, how excited you were for her to be born, and what a wonderful big sister you’ll be.”

Lenka pulled back, her good arm braced against Shepard’s chest. “Mercy? The mistress said Mercy got shot. She said Mercy died.”

Shepard reached up to brush the tears from the child’s face. “She was shot, but she’s alive.” She smiled, her lips trembling as she pressed her hand to Lenka’s cheek, each bruise, each deformity slicing her open to the bone. “Oh, beautiful baby . . ..” The tears finally spilled out, falling in a deluge so thick, that Shepard could barely see. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve never been so scared or sad as I’ve been since they stole you.”

“Shepard!” Garrus slid around the corner, nearly hitting the floor before he recovered. He stared at them for a few moments, his second larynx sounding a soft keen as he looked at Lenka. After a few seconds, his mandibles fluttered. “Hey there, pretty eyes.” He ran forward, pulling them both into a gentle hug, nuzzling Lenka’s face. “Spirits, we’ve been worried about you.” Another soft keen escaped as he took her face between his hands, caressing her between the injuries with his thumb talons. He looked into Shepard’s eyes. “She’s really warm.” 

Shepard’s heart thumped hard, aching as Lenka just stared at Garrus, and she saw a mirror of her own pain in her husband’s eyes. “Let’s get you to the hospital so Dr. Chakwas can take care of you.” Shepard kissed Lenka’s cheek, then Garrus. “Do you want your dad to carry you, baby?”

Lenka just folded down against Shepard’s armour again, hanging boneless in her mother’s arms. “You lied. You both lied.”

“Sh. You’re safe now.” Shepard leaned into Garrus as he pulled her against his side, grateful for his support and comfort. Her mind whirled with all the possibilities of what those bastards had done to her daughter, but she held them at arm’s length. She needed to look after Lenka before giving in to the anger. Focusing all the rage into action, she clung to control with a tenuous grip.

Shepard kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Your friend looked hurt. Should we take him to the hospital too? Does he need to see Dr. Chakwas?” When Lenka nodded, Shepard looked to Tenara. “Does he have someone he trusts to go with him?”

The elderly female nodded. “Jon knows me. I can take him.”

“Thank you.”

They rounded the last corner to be greeted by a scene of complete madness at the front gate. Shepard stopped dead and stared as she spotted Adrien hanging upside down from Pendan’s arms. If it hadn’t been for the primarch laughing so hard he could barely breathe, Shepard might have felt some concern.

“Apparently, they know one another,” Garrus said, shrugging when she looked over at him.

The gathering fell silent, and Pendan set the primarch down, right side up, as they spotted Shepard and Lenka. Gasps of delighted surprise greeted the realization who Shepard held in her arms, then Sol, Herros, and Kaidan raced over to meet them.

Lenka withdrew from their delighted, loving greetings and touches, the only positive movement that she tucked herself in against Shepard, seeking shelter as she had so long before. Garrus called for the shuttle, the family falling in around them as they made their way through the throng and out the gates into the cool night. Sitting on a broken wall, Shepard cradled Lenka against her, leaning down to rest her cheek against the top of the child’s head, humming softly as she rocked her.

“Jane.” Adrien walked through the gate. He crouched in front of them. “You found her.” He smiled and laid his hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “I never doubted you would.” He touched Lenka’s chin with a gentle caress. “Your mari and pari have been turning the galaxy inside out looking for you.”

Shepard glanced back at the gate. “Have you got this? I’m sorry for leaving you with my plan, but tonight is just getting the people fed and warm.” She kissed Lenka. “I can’t leave her.”

Adrien smiled and brushed Shepard’s cheek with a talon. “I’ll be fine. Pendan, myself and several of those other ruffians were all recruits together. I trust them.”

Shepard looked up, having forgotten someone. “Barl?”

The krogan appeared behind Kaidan. “I’ll stay and make sure the primarch keeps breathing, Shepard. I’ll return to Ama Gira’s when he’s safely tucked into his bed.”

Shepard smiled. “Thank you, Barl.”

He cleared his throat. “You just look after the little tiger lily.”

Tenara and the batarian boy walked up to them just as Shepard heard the shuttle approaching. Her gentle smile coaxed a small one from him. “Hello. My name is Jane. I’m Lenka’s mommy. What’s your name?”

He hid behind the elderly turian, trusting her with a completeness that filled Shepard with gratitude that Lenka had found her way to these people. “Jon’darl,” he said, his voice a quick squeak of sound.

“We’re going to take you to see a doctor, okay? Get all those owies looked at.” Shepard’s smile widened. “Maybe get you something tasty to eat. How would that be?”

He nodded, a tentative smile flitting across his face. “You’re Lenka’s mom?”

Shepard nodded and closed her eyes, resting her cheek back against Lenka’s brow. “I am.”

His eyes and entire manner changed, becoming rigid and bristling with anger once more. “She said you lied. You told her you were going to keep her then gave her away to the Master and Mistress.”

Another rogue sob escaped Shepard’s tight rein, and she shook her head. “No. We’d never give her up. Never. We love her more than anything.” Shepard stood as the shuttle landed, turning to protect Lenka from the ash and dirt blown up by the thrusters. “They stole her right out of our ship. Her daddy and I have been searching everywhere trying to get her back.” 

Garrus opened the shuttle’s hatch, and Shepard nodded toward the opening. “Come on, let’s go get you two feeling better.”

Settling into a seat on the shuttle, Garrus pressed in tight against her, Shepard started to feel reality set in. They’d found Lenka. Despite being hurt, confused and feeling betrayed, the child was back where she belonged, safe in her mother’s arms. The black hole whispered, demanding justice, retribution . . . vengeance for her daughter’s suffering. She breathed into it, not to dispel it, but offering it the promise of satisfaction. It needed to wait, to be patient, but one day it would see the ones who’d tortured the beautiful little soul punished and punished soundly.

Garrus called Karin to let her know that they were on their way, but otherwise no one spoke. Shepard hummed her mother’s song, cradling her child on her lap the best she could. Lenka’s eyes closed, her face slowly tilting to rest against the chest guard of Shepard’s armour. No doubt unconsciousness gave her refuge from what must be unbearable pain. At least, allowing herself to fall asleep showed a depth of trust below the surface rage and betrayal.

“They’ve spent all this time torturing her and telling her that we were responsible,” Garrus whispered, a keen formed as much from fury as sorrow lacing through his words. He took Lenka’s little hand in his talons, lifting it to his mouth, nuzzling the back softly.

“Look at what’s in her hand,” Shepard said, blinking hard and fast as the garotte tightened.

He eased Lenka’s fingers open, a harsh, quiet cry greeting the shard of broken crayon clutched there. “Dear spirits.” He shook his head and pulled them in tight against him, his brow pressed to Shepard’s temple.

Shepard glanced up as Kaidan blew his nose into a tissue, tears making his eyes look like raw wounds in his face. Nodding, she gave him a tight-lipped smile of understanding as he met her gaze. The shuttle descending drew her attention away from the major.

She looked to Garrus when it landed and she stood. “Give me a hand? I don’t want to hurt her.” Together, they settled Lenka back against her mother’s chest, her cheek resting on Shepard’s shoulder. 

The hatch opened to reveal Karin jogging across the landing pad. She met them a few metres from the shuttle, circling to lift Lenka’s head with a gentle hand. A firm nod followed a very unprofessional curse.

“Bring her inside.” The doctor fell into step next to them. “Any idea what happened to her?” she asked.

“Other than her being beaten nearly to death?” Shepard said, her voice rumbling with a fury she forced herself to squelch back down. She kissed Lenka’s scalp, comforting herself with the fact that despite her injuries, the child was safe and being cared for.

Karin looked over to their other guest. “Hello there. My name’s Dr. Chakwas, what’s yours?”

The boy clung to Tenara’s leg. The turian laid her hand on his shoulder and chuckled. “This is Jon, and though you wouldn’t know it right now, he’s a very brave young fellow.”

The doctor hustled them straight through to a private room and closed the door before paging Shepard’s nurse from their previous visit. 

“Hello, Admiral,” Milar said, giving her a turian smile. “You’re looking much better.”

“I’m well, thank you.” Shepard smiled and nodded, but quickly turned her attention back to the child pressed against her torso.

Milar strode to the gurney. “Lie the child down here, we’ll just cut those rags off and get some warm blankets.”

Shepard eased Lenka onto the mattress, the child not showing any sign of waking up. “Karin? She seemed to go to sleep on the shuttle, but . . . now, I’m thinking it’s not sleep.” She helped Milar remove the filthy, torn clothes, mewling a little as the extent of Lenka’s injuries were revealed. Garrus came to stand pressed against her side, helping her spread heated blankets over their daughter. 

Karin eased them back and activated her omnitool. After a moment, she looked up. “Lenka is very ill, Shepard. Several of her injuries have gone septic. We’ll get to work, but you need to know that she’s a very sick little girl.”

Shepard nodded as Garrus pulled her in against his side, laying her arms over his. “We just got her back, Doc . . ..” She clenched her teeth against the fear that made the black hole inside her roar. They couldn’t lose her, not like that. 

_If we do,_ the black hole promised, _a trail of blood will lead to the ones who did this._


	13. Mass Effect -  The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lenka in all her poor little broken pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they are back! I should be updating every Wednesday on this story. Maybe one extra chapter a week now and again, but Wednesdays for sure. For the Lenka lovers out there who want more back story on my favourite little batarian, I have a five chapter story called Mercy about her life before Shepard and Garrus found her.

**August 11, 2188**

_“Lenka?” Shepard stopped, heart pounding against her ribs, breath clawing raggedly in and out through a throat raw from shouting her daughter’s name. “Lenka, where are you? Please answer me.” The trees closed in around her, dark sentinels pressing so tight she could barely breathe. Why did it always go back to that fucking forest? Was there something that she was supposed to see or recognize? If so, she needed to see it so that she could stop going back._

_Figures in gold robes, endless numbers of them filled the space between the trunks, packing tight enough to all but hold Shepard in place. She clawed and punched, kicked and climbed her way through the unmoving bodies, leaving a trail of slumped and bleeding forms behind her. Somewhere ahead of her, Lenka screamed._

_Frantic wails of pain and fear poured from the tiny batarian, thick, clotted with snot and tears, each shriek slamming into Shepard like a missile filled with shards of broken glass._

_“Mommy!” The scream punched straight through her ribs and tore her heart out, throwing it onto the ground to vanish beneath the shifting folds of gold skirts. Leaving it behind, she vaulted over the Apostles in front of her, fighting to get through._

Shepard woke with a start, almost knocking her armchair over backwards. Flailing for balance, she caught herself on the railing of Lenka’s bed and yanked herself upright. Blinking, chest heaving, she reached up to rub eyes that burned and streamed tears. 

_Lenka!_

Gradually, the sounds and smells of the hospital replaced those of forest and closely packed bodies. Just a dream. She stretched her neck, her spine crackling like old twigs under foot. Her hand lifted to rub the knotted muscles along the base of her skull. Her stomach lurched, threatening to empty itself of cafeteria food as the pain spiked, carrying with it a wave of dizziness that darkened her vision. After sleeping in a chair for the better part of four days, she didn’t possess a body part that didn’t feel as if a steamroller had driven back and forth over it several times.

The feeling of being crushed and breathless with panic didn’t fade as she looked around the hospital room, only easing as her eyes turned to the figure sleeping at her side on the bed. She reached up to caress her daughter’s scalp, pain and hope tangling into a mixture more volatile than nitroglycerin as she watched every rise and fall of the horribly skeletal chest. 

“Wake up, baby.” She leaned up to kiss the still feverish brow, her lips still brushing Lenka’s skin as she whispered, “Please, come back to me.”

Four days. More than a hundred hours since Karin and the other surgeons had returned Lenka to them, but still those eyes refused to open. Perhaps it was for the best if the child slept through the pain, but dammit, she wanted to look into those gorgeous black depths and see her baby there. Not the rage and accusation, not the months of suffering, but the old sweetness . . . the kind, open, brave heart. 

Shepard closed her eyes and leaned forward to press her brow to the mattress. “Please, please let her have come through intact. Please don’t let me be the reason that beautiful soul was broken.” She looked up, hearing familiar footsteps in the corridor.

The door opened. “Hey.” Garrus stepped through, Mercy asleep against his shoulder. “We figured you’d be awake soon.” Nearly silent steps carried him across the floor to stand at her side. “The doc says she’s doing better.”

Shepard nodded and leaned forward, gently pressing the backs of her fingers to Lenka’s brow and then her cheek. “Yeah, her fever is coming down. I’m not worried about her body any longer, just her spirit.” Slumping in her chair, she shook her head. “I’m so afraid we’re not going to get our sweet little hug monster back.”

He bent to nuzzle her temple. “We’ll deal with what she gives us as it comes. For now, just let it be enough to have our girl safe where she belongs.”

Mercy stirred, starting to wake up. When she opened those big, gorgeous blue eyes and saw Shepard, she began to fuss, her chubby little arm stretching out for her mama.

Shepard smiled and reached up to take her from Garrus. “Hey there cute stuff, how’s my SBG?” Kissing the baby’s cheeks, she closed her eyes and just let the feeling of having her family present, accounted for, and safe wash away the last of the dream. “You’ve had a weird week, haven’t you?” She kissed the baby again then cradled her in her lap. “Don’t worry, everything will settle down.”

Shepard looked up as her husband pulled the other chair over next to hers. “How are things out there in the galaxy?” she asked. “Our family still isn’t camped out in the waiting room, are they?” A second later, her eyes turned back to Mercy, smiling as the baby bumped her head against Shepard’s breast, tiny, impatient fists gripping at the fabric of her tunic. “Okay, Miss Pushy.” Shepard tugged her shirt and bra up to allow Mercy to nurse, then looked back to Garrus, grinning and shaking her head as he watched, even after so many months, his delight in it unwaning. 

Letting out a weary sigh, Garrus thumped down into the chair. After a moment, he cleared his throat and nodded, leaning back. “ _Pari_ and Gira headed home a few hours ago. He wasn’t feeling very well, so I told them to go sleep in a real bed for the night. I sent Sol and Kaidan home just before I came in.” 

Shepard reached up, pressing her palm against his cheek, her thumb caressing his face. Exhaustion dulled his eyes, and the way his shoulders hung heavy and leaden, his neck bowing, made her heart ache. Every morning, he got up and headed into the Hierarchy, put in a long day rebuilding the turian empire, and then returned to the hospital at night.

“Adrien came by a couple of hours ago to check in,” he continued. “Apparently, Pendan dropped off all their weapons, signed his agreement, and has started rebuilding. He also led Internal Forces to the TPR base where he met with Balak’s people, so that bastard has two less footholds on our planet.” 

He stumbled a little, looking as though he was about to say something, but then stopped to look her in the eye, holding her stare as if afraid of how she’d react. Shepard frowned and moved her hand over to rest on top of his, squeezing his fingers. When he didn’t say anything or look away, she shook her head. “What, Garrus? What’s going on?”

He hesitated another second before replying, “They think they found the location where Lenka was held.” His hand snapped up as if he expected her to tear Mercy from her breast, jump up and race off. “Adrien is sending scouts to check it out.” When she made no move to do anything, his hand settled back to hers, lacing his talons with her fingers. 

Shepard nodded, not sure why he’d thought she’d leave her daughters to chase after a rumour. Although, given her state of mind the past six months, she supposed he didn’t feel as though he could predict her reactions to anything. He didn’t need to worry. Had it been a rumour of Lenka’s location before they found her, yes, but chasing down the bastards who’d done it . . . that took a long distance back seat to being there with her family and taking care of them. 

She gave him what she hoped amounted to a reassuring smile. “I hope it pans out. I think there are a lot of people on the _Normandy_ who want to be there for that particular arrest.”

Glancing toward the windows, Shepard looked for some sign of the time of day on the other side, but the blinds blocked out the world. Garrus, however, gave her a significant hint when he let out an impressive, tooth-displaying yawn. She chuckled and nudged him with her elbow, nodding toward the cot. “Get some sleep, Hierarch. You’ve got to go to work.”

“Will my ladies lay down with me?” He leaned over to nuzzle her cheek. “You could use some horizontal time, yourself. Sleeping in this chair is going to leave you crippled after a couple more days.”

Mercy pulled away from Shepard and looked up, smiling at her _pari_. One little fist snatched at his mandible as he bent down to kiss her. He chuckled and lifted her from Shepard’s arms, her hand still gripping his face. “I think you’re going to end up being a truly terrifying Hideth Turram player,” he teased. “But you’re going to spend a lot of time on the sidelines if you insist on using the fearsome mandible pulls.” 

She giggled happily and yanked on it hard enough that Garrus’s eye started to water. Gently removing the baby’s fingers before she caused actual damage, Shepard shook her head. “And she takes such delight in the pain.” Leaning forward, she nestled in against Garrus’s side, her head on his shoulder, letting out a weary sigh. “I can’t wait for us to get home.” She looked up. “Are Kaidan and Sol moved into the new house yet?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and they’re setting up the other main floor bedroom for the girls. We should be able to move Lenka straight home.” His arm wrapped around her, pulling her tight. “I can’t wait to get my family into our house, start preparing for number three.” He pulled back to give her a teasing smile. “You had better be right about this new member of the family being a boy,” he said, his mandibles dropping. “I’m getting vastly outnumbered.”

“Well, for a while you’ll have Kaidan to share all the male rituals with. Passing gas, burping contests . . . belly scratching . . . whatever it is males do to bond.” Laughing, she tilted her head as he nuzzled her neck, nipping her playfully.

“Mostly, I can’t wait to share all the bond-mate rituals.” He pulled her in against him. “We might actually get a couple nights a week alone in a bedroom.”

“You’re a dreamer, Shepard-Vakarian. You know how much I love that about you.” Pulling back a little, she kissed him. “Get some sleep. Mercy can bunk with you, and I’ll sleep up with Lenka. I don’t want her to wake up without someone right there.”

He shook his head. “I’ll sleep up with Lenka for now. You two take the cot, and we’ll switch when Mercy wakes us up for her midnight snack.” Leaning back in his chair, he cupped her face in his hand, the pad of his thumb talon caressing her cheekbone. “You look worn right out. Get some decent sleep for a few hours.” 

Shepard kissed him, letting her eyes slip closed as her lips brushed the end of his nose, then the upper plate of his mouth. Lifting into him, her lips parted, just the tip of her tongue teasing. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her in tight against the side of his keel as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing along hers. After long, breathless minutes, Shepard pulled back, the ache in her belly accelerating to a place where only one thing would calm it back down, and she didn’t think dragging her husband into the bathroom of a hospital room to ravage him would be entirely appropriate.

He chuckled softly, a deep rumble rolling along its underside as he panted for breath, his mouth pressed against her ear. “We need to get home, wife.”

She nodded, pulling back to look into his eyes, smiling wide, then kissed his mandible. “Yes, we do.” She settled down into her chair and laid her head back to rest against Garrus’s shoulder as she returned to watching Lenka. “As soon as she wakes up, we’ll get her home, look after her, and try to make her feel safe.”

“Are you still having the nightmares?” he whispered. Mercy began to fuss again, so he settled her back in Shepard’s arms.

A slight nod answered his question, the less she needed to revisit that damned forest, the better. Shepard stood and bent over the sleeping batarian, her lips just brushing the pointed ear. “I love you more than the moon loves the stars,” she whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to one of the few places not covered in bruising or bandages.

Shepard fell asleep within moments of lying down on the cot. That time, her sleep remained blessedly peaceful until Mercy woke her, little fists demanding to be able to get at a breast. Yawning, she sat up, settled the baby and then checked her omnitool, blurry vision trying to focus on the chrono display. 0230. Damn. Garrus needed to get up in a few hours. As soon as Mercy went back to sleep, Shepard would switch places with him. He couldn’t be all that comfortable balanced on the edge of Lenka’s bed.

Still, when she looked up, he appeared to be sleeping soundly. Another blessing. His dreams left him almost no peace either. God, she hoped that they were just flushing the war from their system and managed to get it scrubbed away soon. Her heart clenched as she watched her husband sleep. A couple of times over the past few days she caught him just staring into space, tears running down his face, but when she roused him, he had no idea why he’d been crying. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been thinking about. Or at least, he said he didn’t. 

A sick ache spread out from the tightness in her chest at her own doubt. He wouldn’t lie to her. At least not unless he believed himself protecting her from something. True to his word, he’d started seeing Karin for counselling, but she supposed neither of them could expect years of horror to heal overnight.

Mercy pulled away, letting out a soft, terribly pathotic sigh then smacked her little lips a couple of times. Shepard smiled down at her daughter, love and connection and the most wonderful sense of rightness pouring into her from those wise, old-soul eyes as they stared back. She lifted the baby, settling her against her shoulder and rubbed her back. 

“Going to give me a burp or two so you and your _pari_ can cuddle up and go back to sleep?”

Garrus stirred on the bed, surfacing slowly at the sound of her voice. She watched him, studying his face and his body language as he awoke, hoping to see his soul exposed, bare and honest, for even the briefest moment.

Mercy burped, spitting a little, sending Shepard into the bag stored under the cot for a cloth. When she’d cleaned up the baby’s face, she looked up and Garrus was awake. “Oh, I see how it is,” she said, smiling down at her daughter. “It’s a conspiracy. You and your _pari_ are in cahoots.”

“Always,” Garrus whispered, his chuckle warm and drowsy. He eased himself off the bed, careful not to jar Lenka, then stretched, his joints popping loud enough for Shepard to hear. “What are we in cahoots over this time?”

Shepard grinned and shook her head. “She’s just got your back, is all.” She bounced Mercy gently. “Should we clean you up, get your butt all fresh for sleeping with _Pari_?”

“Yes, please,” Garrus said, brushing a kiss across Shepard’s brow as he passed on his way to the washroom.

By the time he emerged, Shepard had Mercy changed, powdered, and baby fresh. She tucked them in on the cot, kissing them both, then climbed up next to Lenka.

“Goodnight, my beautiful girl.” She laid her head on the pillow a couple of inches from the child and closed her eyes. “When you wake up, I can take you to see Susie and James. You’ll barely recognize little Susie. She’s grown so much. And James has a girlfriend, one of the nurses who volunteered to move to Pertexa from Earth. Her name is Amiee, and wait until you see how completely goofy he acts around her. It’s brilliant.”

Leaning up a little, she kissed Lenka’s cheek then snuggled in, holding the little batarian’s hand in hers. 

 

**August 12, 2188**

_A soft sigh of sound whispered through Shepard’s sleep. In her dream, she looked around ELSI’s meadow, searching for the source. Spotting a small shape hunkered down in the grass, she walked over that way._

_“Hello? Lenka?”_

_The child sat with her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her brow pressed to her knees. She rocked, frantically throwing herself forward then backward as she whispered something over and over to herself._

_“Lenka?” Shepard crouched next to the child, the hydra of guilt, fear, and sorrow snaking through her. Reaching out, she gripped the child’s shoulder in a gentle hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe with me. You’re going to be all right.”_

_Scrambling to her feet, Lenka screamed and backed away, her hands held out to ward Shepard off. “Not this dream,” she cried out. “Not this dream. It doesn’t want to see this dream. Please.”_

Shepard awoke, a very real cry dragging her from the dream. Opening her eyes, she saw Lenka sitting curled up, rocking, just as she had been in the dream. Over and over, she begged the universe to spare her the dream of being home and safe and loved. The desperation and despair in her voice shattered Shepard’s heart into tiny, bleeding shards that rained from her eyes.

“Lenka, baby,” Shepard said, keeping her voice gentle and comforting, “this isn’t a dream, sweetie.” She brushed the tears from her face and sat up. “You’re okay. You’re with your daddy and I in the hospital.”

The chanting and rocking slowed. “Where’s Jon?” she whispered, still not looking up.

“Dr. Chakwas made him all better, so Tenara took him back to the compound.” She reached out, but didn’t touch the child. “He was worried that the torin who was looking after the two of you would be lonely.” She smiled. “What is his name? Jon said he took really good care of you.”

“Ceranis,” Lenka whispered. She glanced up, looking around as if she expected everything to disappear. Her head shook a little from nerve damage, an involuntary tremor that set Shepard’s gut boiling with the urge to ensure those two bastards twitched and ticked for the rest of their lives. “His mate and kids died in the war. He’s nice.” Straightening a little, she winced as she moved, still in obvious pain.

“Lay down, sweetie,” Shepard coaxed. “Get some rest. You’re safe and getting better. Dr. Chakwas has been taking really good care of you.” 

“It’s really not a dream?” she asked, her tone telling Shepard how many nights she’d spent believing herself safe only to awake into a reality filled with torment. So little of Lenka’s face showed around bandages and damage that Shepard found her expression inscrutable.

She patted the pillow. “It’s not a dream, sweetheart. Come and lie down with me.” Shepard laid down first, pulling the covers back and straightening them for the child.

A soft, shuddering moan escaped Lenka’s lips as she stretched out on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Shepard tried to hold her hand, but the child yanked it away.

They lay there for nearly ten minutes in silence before Lenka sighed. “When it was a little kid,” she whispered, “it used to listen to Mother Lucy pray for Mercy.” She rolled over onto her side, her face a hand’s width away from Shepard’s on the pillow. “It thought Mercy was a beautiful, glowing lady who would come to the Mother House and make it nice to live there. Make it so we didn’t have to be scared.”

A soft smile curved Shepard’s lips at the grown up tone from her little girl. “When you were a little kid,” she repeated, her tone gentle and light, “as compared to now, when you’re so very old.” She reached up, trying to ignore Lenka flinching away from her, and stroked a gentle fingertip down the child’s nose ridges.

Lenka nodded, completely sincere and adorably serious. “When you found it, it thought you were Mercy come to take care of it, take it someplace nicer where it didn’t have to be afraid of the shadows any more.” Tears started rolling down the child’s bruised and swollen face. “Why, Shepard? Why did you send it away? You said you loved it. Wasn’t it good enough?”

Shepard leaned up a little, brushing soft, healing kisses against the worst of the damage. “Sweetie, I want you to close your eyes.” She pulled back when Lenka just stared at her. “Come on, close your eyes.” When the child closed all four beautiful, black eyes, Shepard laid her head back on the pillow so that their noses touched. “Good. Now, think back to that day. Do you remember coming back to the _Normandy_ with Kaidan and Sol?”

Lenka nodded. “We looked for a new hamster, but couldn’t find one.” 

Shepard took her child’s uninjured hand in hers, caressing the inside of Lenka’s arm. “I picked you up and told you that I loved yah, and kissed you. You kissed your daddy and then went with Papa.”

“We went up to the cabin after he made some calls from the war room. It was making a picture for you and daddy.” She mewled softly and pulled away. “Then they came to the door. The Master and Missus. They said that it had to go with them. The Master hit Papa.” Shepard felt her child’s chest heaving against hers. “Tali helped it run away and hide, but they found us.”

Shepard hummed softly. “Sh, it’s okay, baby. They can’t hurt you any more. Do you remember when they took you off the ship?” Skipping ahead to avoid making Lenka relive as much of the trauma as possible, she caressed her back in gentle circles until she calmed. “Do you remember seeing me running toward you?”

Lenka nodded, the bandages whispering against the linen. “You were crying and calling its name. Daddy was fighting with some men.” She opened her eyes and leaned back to focus her stare on Shepard. “You were trying to get it back?”

Smiling, Shepard nodded. “You bet your socks we were trying to get you back. I chased them all the way to the car, almost had it, but the door was locked. I couldn’t get in. Do you remember Daddy hitting the window, trying to break it?”

Tears started flowing again, but this time Lenka curled in tight, burrowing under Shepard’s chin. “It remembers.”

“They stole you from us, sweetheart. They stole you right out of our home and broke our hearts.” Shepard kissed her daughter’s brow. “We would have searched forever, torn the whole galaxy apart to find you. We love you so much.” Tears blurred her vision, so she closed her eyes. “Your daddy and me and Papa . . . we’ve been so sad without you.”

Lenka slipped her good arm around Shepard’s neck, squeezing tight. “It was so scared, Shepard. They were so mean. They said you hated it because it was batarian and wanted to just have your own kids.”

The mattress moved. Shepard looked up, smiling as Garrus eased himself up onto the narrow space behind Lenka and leaned over the child to nuzzle her ear. “You are ours, Lenka.” He nuzzled her cheek and wrapped a gentle hand around her. “Just as much as Mercy. We love you, and we missed you. The poor old _Normandy_ was so lonely without you.”

Lenka rolled over a little, her little face turning to Garrus, eyes so wonderfully bright. “ _Ami_ Sol and Kaidan?” she asked, the hope in her voice sending tiny shockwaves of pain through Shepard’s heart.

“And Papa, even Joker has been sad,” Shepard confirmed. When she looked up into Garrus’s eyes, she saw his heartbreak and anger and joy. Somehow, that gaze said, they needed to find a way to make everything right again. She nodded. They would. 

“Everybody has been here to see you while you were sleeping. Terion has been here almost the whole time, waiting to say hi.” She sat up and slipped off the bed. “In fact, _Ami_ Sol and Kaidan brought someone else who has been missing you pretty badly.” She dug into her bag and pulled out Jane, hiding the doll as she lay back down. When she settled back in place, she held her up.

“Jane!” Lenka cried out, giving a happy squeal. She took the ugly old rag doll from Shepard’s hand almost reverently and kissed her. “It dreamed about you every night.”

Lenka smiled and cuddled in between them. 

Shepard caressed the child’s cheek and arm. “And we dreamed of you, and I prayed . . ..” Pain and anger boiled inside her, choking off her words as she remembered standing outside the hospital in the snow that night. She prayed for her father’s god to keep Lenka safe . . . to make sure she knew they would come for her and to take away her fear. Instead, she’d spent the months being tortured. What purpose . . .? What sort of compassionate god would put a child through—

“Mommy?” A small hand brushed Shepard’s cheek, calming the bitter, ugly stream of thought—the touch of a cool, wet cloth on a fevered brow

A ragged but happy sob greeted the touch and the name. Shepard swallowed the tears and smiled as she met Lenka’s stare. “Yes, precious?”

“Will you find the littles and the mothers too? Make them safe?” Lenka looked back and forth between Shepard and Garrus, her expression earnest, dark eyes glistening. “The Master and Mistress took it back there. They took it back to the first Master’s big house, because the angry man was there.” 

A thousand questions fought for dominance, but Shepard shoved them aside, concentrating on Lenka and the moment. Later, when her gorgeous, little light shone bright and clear again, the questions would get answers. Right then, Lenka needed hugs, kisses, and reassurance not interrogations.

Shepard leaned in and kissed the child’s brow. “Of course we will. We’ll make sure the Master and Mistress don’t get a chance to hurt anyone else.”

Mercy squawked over on Garrus’s cot. He rolled off the bed and hurried over to grab her before she started exploring and fell off the edge. Passing her to Shepard, he wriggled his way up onto the bed again. Seeing Mercy, Lenka let out another squeal and bolted upright. Shepard sat the baby so Mercy leaned up against her stomach, facing her big sister.

“Lenka, this is your baby sister, Mercy.” Shepard reached up with her bottom hand to caress Lenka’s cheek. “Mercy, this is Lenka. She’s your big sister.”

Lenka took Mercy’s hand, as wide a smile as she could manage glowing over the damage. “Hello, Mercy. Oh, Mommy, she’s so cute.” She looked to Shepard. “Can it kiss her?”

Shepard chuckled, her eyes prickling again as her heart swelled too big for her chest. “The more the better. She loves her kisses and hugs.” A soft smile painted itself across her face as she watched her daughters introduce themselves. Mercy giggled and bounced happily at the rolling undertones in Lenka’s voice as the little batarian played with her, gently kissing and hugging her. They played with Jane for a little while, gradually everyone falling asleep crammed onto the narrow, single bed.

Lenka laid her head down between Shepard and Garrus, her nose just brushing Shepard’s. “Are you sure this isn’t a dream, Mommy?”

Shepard kissed her and rubbed the tips of their noses together in a bunny kiss. “Positive, baby. You’re back where you belong with your mommy and daddy. Go to sleep. Everything’s going to be okay.”


	14. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can they get Lenka back to 100% and find the bastards who took her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. I will try to be far, far more punctual from now on. But not until I finish DA:I, my elf mage playthrough. :D

**August 13, 2188**

Shepard awoke to a sound that forced tears through her eyelids before she even got them open; a sound she’d spent months terrified she’d never hear again.

Somewhere, a few metres away, her girls giggled like fiends, the helpless, giddy silliness of childhood. The baby squealed, shrill and bright with excitement. For a moment, the singularity Lenka’s loss created at Shepard’s core hissed and spat, warning her not to believe it. Just another dream, it growled. It’s always just another dream.

Garrus’s rumbling chuckle broke through the hollow warnings, shattering them from the inside. A delicious warmth and light burst to life inside her at the sound. God, she loved hearing him happy. It seemed a lifetime since she and Liara had shared a glass of wine in her quarters, and she’d told her asari friend that she fought to allow Garrus to find peace and love. She opened her eyes. His laugh promised so much, holding so many possibilities. Hopefully, they could start to discover them all. 

Lifting her head from the pillow, she saw her daughters, Garrus, Kaidan, Sol, and Herros all sitting on a blanket on the floor. Mercy crawled back and forth between them. When Lenka called out a name, the baby tottered over to smack them on the leg. The more everyone laughed, the more Mercy performed her role as the entertainer.

Perfect, just what any baby needed to learn, slapping people around. Shepard hid a wide smile behind a hand. But wasn’t she just the most adorable little thug?

“You people are a terrible influence,” Shepard called, sitting up. “Why are you teaching my sweet girl to slap?” Crossing her legs, she leaned forward, bracing her elbows against her thighs. “Considering her parentage, don’t you think her odds of growing up to break major council laws or rally war efforts aren’t short enough already?”

“I’ve got even money on breaking a council law,” Kaidan said, meeting her stare. As he held Lenka in his lap, the major’s eyes practically crackled with joy. 

“And the morning line is five to four in favour of leading some hopeless crusade,” Herros added. Shepard narrowed her eyes at him as his mandibles fluttered.

“We’re calling it rehab,” Sol said and chuckled, “but I think in the end, we’re going to be the ones needing rehabilitation.” Picking up the baby, she nuzzled one of the dusky, round cheeks. “Mmm, you’re so adorable, I could just eat you up. Besides, my money is on mob enforcer.”

Garrus let out a harsh cough of laughter, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled, deep and rough, “Her name might be Mercy, but she won’t show you any.”

Shepard joined in the laughter as she rolled out of bed and stretched. “Fantastic, put ideas in her head.” She moaned softly as her joints popped. Her entire body felt as though someone had taken a meat tenderizer to her. She bent over to kiss Garrus’s brow, passing by the others on her way to the bathroom. Looking back, she winked at Lenka. “You’ll promise not to break my heart by picking up a gun, right?”

The smile fell from Lenka’s face, her one visible eye so huge and earnest that her expression almost broke Shepard’s heart right there. Thank God that as battered as they’d left her, the child appeared to be unbroken. “I promise, Mommy. I’m going to be a doctor.”

Shepard smiled and blew her a kiss. “That’s my girl.”

“An excellent choice of profession,” Karin announced, even as she strode in the door. “One with a proud and honourable tradition. Just don’t become a military doctor.” The smile she levelled at Shepard set off every smartass alarm within a thousand klicks. “Soldiers just aren’t that bright. A constant aggravation.”

Shepard shook her head as she scooted past, finding it impossible to form even a fake scowl for the heady, warm sunshine pouring through her. “You’re just lucky I really need to pee. I’ll be back to deal with you in a minute.”

“Wash your hands,” the doctor replied. “Okay, Lenka Shepard-Vakarian, get up on this bed. I have sick patients to see.”

When Shepard returned to the room, Lenka sat on the edge of the bed, braced against her daddy and clutching his hand, as Dr. Chakwas removed the bandages from her head. Despite wincing at every bruise and scar as Karin revealed them, Shepard saw that Lenka’s face showed a remarkable improvement. Grinning, she hurried over to join them. 

“You’re looking so much better.” She caressed Lenka’s cheek with a gentle finger. Turning to the doctor, she raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. 

Karin nodded. “I want to keep her here for another day just to make sure she’s not going to play too hard, but you’ll all be free to go home tomorrow.” The doctor leaned down to give Lenka a smile. “And about time, yes?”

Lenka returned the doctor’s smile with a solemn nod, her eyes looking haunted and distant. “I dreamed … .” Her voice just trailed off as she folded her hands in her lap, staring down at them.

Shepard sat next to the child and wrapped gentle arms around her. “And those dreams brought you back to us.” She kissed one of the ugly green bruises across Lenka’s scalp, just a feather-soft brush of her lips. “And now you don’t have to dream any more, because we’re taking you home.”

Lenka’s arms slipped around Shepard’s waist as she tucked herself in against the admiral’s chest. 

“Jane?”

Her name drew Shepard’s attention to the door that led into the hallway. She smiled, seeing Adrien peering through, obviously trying to avoid disturbing them. After giving the Primarch a starched nod to let him know that she’d be right with him, she turned back to Lenka.

“So, my beautiful girl will be right as rain in a couple of days?” she asked, pressing another kiss between the bruises.

Lenka turned to give her a quick peck. No ‘I luv yah’ followed, but it was a start.

“She will be, indeed,” Dr. Chakwas responded, tapping at her omnitool. “I’d kick her out today, but I think she should spend one more day in the regen field.” She looked up and ran another scan. “Those bones still need to do a little more healing.”

But, it’s so boring in there,” Lenka groused, pouting adorably. 

Shepard shook her head a little. “Then, I’ll bring you new books to read. There’s no reason to just lie there staring at the vid screen. Terion just about has his school built. You’ll need to be ready.” 

“Stupid cattle shouldn’t waste time on such frivolous things,” Lenka snapped. 

Shepard jumped, cut by the fury that lashed out with Lenka’s words. Policing her reaction and the anger that followed it, she swore silent oaths that promised a world of suffering for the batarians as soon as she found them. Out loud, she said, “Smart little girls who want to be doctors should read all the time, and learn everything they can.”

She squeezed the child gently. “Terion’s _pari_ is outside. I’m going to go talk to him. You’d better be in that regen field, getting smarter when I come back.” She stepped away from the bed, stopping when Lenka grabbed hold of her.

“Take me with you, please,” Lenka cried, arms reaching out, desperate fingers scrabbling at Shepard’s clothing.

Shepard took the child’s hands in hers and shook her head. “You stay here with Daddy and Mercy. You can read her a book while I’m gone.” Ducking away from Lenka’s grasping arms and frantic, terrified expression, Shepard steeled herself and strode to the door. As much as the admiral’s heart tore down the middle fibre by fibre as she walked away from her shrieking child, she knew that Lenka needed to learn that even though her mother and father left, they would come back. Always.

“Hey there, Adrien,” she called as the door closed behind her, and she spied the primarch pacing a few metres down the hallway. When they met halfway, she gave him a quick hug. “What’s up that warrants a personal visit from His Most Mighty Worshipfulness?”

He pulled away and glared at her, his mandibles flicking low and tight. “Worshipfulness?”

A thoughtful frown tightened one side of her face as she half-shrugged and shook her head. “Yeah, no, that doesn’t really apply.” A smart ass grin replaced the scowl. “It’s for holy figures, and you’re most definitely not one of those.”

He just stared at her for a second, then shook his head and lifted a small portfolio case. “I think I’m just going to ignore all that.” He withdrew a datapad from the case. “We hope that we’ve found the facility where Lenka was held. These are aerial holos of the property and buildings.”

Shepard took the pad and turned it on, flipping through the first few images as she said, “Lenka said that they took her back to the old master’s house, so it’s probably where she was born too.” Tearing her eyes away from the images, she asked, “You want her to try to identify the place?”

He replied with a sharp nod. “Now that we’ve found it, we’ll take it down anyway, but if it is your slaver scum running the place, the _Normandy_ should be at the forefront of that action.”

Letting the arm holding the datapad drop, Shepard let out a long sigh. “Damned right. Those bastards told me I wasn’t fit to raise her. I want to look them in the eye as they’re slapped into cuffs and sent off to work heavy labour for the rest of their lives.” A smile broke through her anger as the air moved in the corridor and the scent of her daughter drifted off her clothing. Entire body softening, she said, “But I’ve got her back.” One shoulder popped in a quick shrug. “Granted, they probably turned her loose, hoping that if she died in the rubble of Cipritine, the turian cells would take the blame.”

Adrien stepped closer. “Does Balak actually think that sort of thing will work?” He lowered his voice as if he didn’t want to chance breaking what peace she’d found.

“Balak doesn’t, no.” She took a long, resigned breath, her head shaking absently. “He’s too focused on his Heaven’s Gate and trying to manipulate me into opening it. That said, he doesn’t control his jesters very well.” She stepped into the Primarch’s space and gave him another quick hug. “Thanks for everything. I know you have a lot more to do than help Garrus and me with our personal drama.”

He nuzzled her cheek then stepped back. “Do you think I’m doing this for you?” One mandible twitched in a smile. “When Garrus and I take out this place, we’re tough on slavery, something turians hate as much as humans. It’ll anchor us both firmly in the good graces of the hierarchy’s old guard.” He backed toward the entrance. “Did I hear that Lenka is being discharged tomorrow?”

“Yeah, so we’ll play it by ear if these are of the right place.” She lifted the datapad. “I’ll call you when I know more, you horrifically political creature, you.”

He shuddered, then laughed. “That was just cruel, Shepard. Just cruel.” Spinning on his talons, he pushed through the door and out.

Shepard activated the datapad, and flipped through the rest of the holos to make sure they didn’t show anything that might upset Lenka, but she saw that the father at the core of the primarch had already thought of that. All the images were pleasant and brightly lit. If she ignored the whole holding people captive to breed them like animals aspect, she could have called them happy-looking. Satisfied that the pictures were as harmless as she could hope for, she shut off the datapad and headed back into Lenka’s room.

A shrill scream of ‘Mommy!’ and hysterical sobbing slammed into her as she stepped through the door.

“What’s going on?” she asked, hurrying over to where Garrus held the struggling Lenka on his lap. As soon as his gentle talons released the child, she leapt through the air, latching onto Shepard’s neck. 

“Don’t leave me.” Crying so hard that she gagged and choked between words, Lenka just kept repeating them over and over, escalating with each second. 

“Oh, precious, I’m not going to leave you.” Shepard wrapped her arms around the little batarian and carried her over to the cot. Sitting down, she settled Lenka on her lap. “Stop your crying, Lenka. I came right back in.”

“I’ll be back later on,” the doctor called, her voice soft, before striding to the door.

“Thanks, Doc,” Garrus answered, looking up from the restless baby in his arms.

Shepard gave Karin a quick smile, then focused her attention on Lenka. Leaning back to meet Lenka’s frantic gaze, she ran a tender finger down the child’s nose ridges. “Hey, even when they stole you, your daddy and I went looking for you, didn’t we? It took us a while to find you, but we kept our promise. We found you, and we brought you home.” Gentle fingers brushed away the tears as she smiled. “I’m your mother, Lenka, and that will never change. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in the next room or on the other side of the galaxy; there’s a bond between our hearts that will always lead me to you, and it will always bring you home to me.” 

She hugged the child then pulled away and nodded toward Garrus. “And even though the big guy pretends he’s too tough for stuff like that, you can feel the bond that ties you to him too, can’t you?”

Lenka closed her eyes and scrunched up her face until Shepard couldn’t bear the adorableness and kissed the child’s brow. “She’s looking for it,” she whispered, grinning as she informed Garrus. 

“Sh!” The admonishment sliced the air, earning Lenka a gentle swat on the behind.

“So cheeky,” Shepard said, letting out a forlorn sigh. She waited, deciding it was important for Lenka to either discover the ties or not in light of the fact they might be taking her back to her biological mother and father. Hugging her daughter tight, she prayed that Lenka discovered the love and trust that had pulled her out of that freighter’s safe room and gifted the _Normandy_ with its own, personal hug monster.

After losing her family, despite her tie to Anderson and even Hackett, Shepard never believed she’d heal enough inside to love anyone. She kept everyone, even Kaidan, at arm’s length until the awkward, angry turian fell back into her life. She’d needed someone to anchor her after Cerberus brought her back from the dead, and Garrus stepped up, willing to be her place of solace and peace. That tie had been enough to drag her out of the abyss, enough to pull her through the endless agony of her coma.

Even having experienced that bond, she’d never dreamed she could fall as hard and as fast as she had for the little batarian in her arms. She thought she’d known hell, but nothing the batarians, Reapers, or Cerberus handed out came anywhere close to the day she’d lost Lenka and nearly lost Mercy. If she had to fight the whole damned war over again, she’d do it in a heartbeat just to save other families from suffering through the pain she’d felt the last six months.

Looking up at her husband, Shepard caught him watching her and smiled, seeing something of what she’d been thinking and feeling reflected in his eyes.

“I see it, Mommy,” Lenka said at last, her voice soft, almost reverent. “It’s warm and bright, like the way the sun peeked through the cracks in the blinds first thing in the morning.” A tiny shudder rippled through the child. She leaned into Shepard. “It always scared away the shadows, like you scared away the monsters in my dreams.”

Shepard pressed her lips just above her daughter’s ear, the slight point brushing against her corner of her mouth as she said, “That light will always lead me and your daddy to you.” She pulled back to meet Lenka’s stare and smiled. “So, no more tears, okay? Daddy and I are going to have to go to work, and you’re going to want to go to school, but at the end of the day, we’ll all arrive back home and be together.”

A dubious expression met that idea, but Lenka swiped the tears from her cheeks. “The angry man and the master and mistress will find me,” she whispered, her lips trembling even as she pressed them together, her tears drying up. 

Shepard took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, Terion’s _pari_ wanted to talk to me because he thinks they’ve found the place where the master and mistress took you.” She held up the datapad. “There are some pictures of the buildings on this datapad that he wanted you to look at to see if you recognized them. You okay with doing that?”

Garrus slipped off the bed, transferring the now sleeping Mercy into her aunt’s arms. He walked around to sit next to them, the cot creaking as he did. “We know how brave you are, Pretty Eyes, so if you don’t want to, that’s okay. You don’t need to prove anything to us.” He stroked gentle talons over her scalp. 

Lenka eyeballed the pad for a moment before looking up at Shepard. “Just the buildings?”

“Yep, and the pictures are all really nice. I looked through them already, and there isn’t anything scary in them.” Shepard offered her the datapad, but at a distance where she had to reach for it, rather than feeling pressured to take it.

“I’m not scared.” She took the pad and turned it on. “They’re just pictures. Even if they showed scary things, they can’t hurt me.”

Shepard kissed Lenka’s temple. “You’re the most amazing kid in the entire galaxy.” She looked up again as Sol carried Mercy over and passed the baby to Garrus. 

“We’re going to head over to the house and get back to work since Lenka’s coming home tomorrow,” the tarin said, reaching over to stroke Lenka’s cheek with a talon. 

Kaidan held the door open, dark brown eyes locked on Shepard’s, his stare as much challenge as query. “The _Normandy_ ’s going to be going after them if it turns out to be the right place?” He bristled before she even answered. “We need to be there, Shepard.”

She nodded, meeting his challenge. “You will be.” A smile eased the tension. “See you for supper. We’ll take the girls down to the cafeteria for junk food.”

Lenka looked up, her movement pulling Shepard’s attention back to her. “Can we have cake?”

“You bet.” Shepard lifted a hand to squeeze Sol’s talons. “See you later, and thanks for all the help you two. We really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least we can do since we’ve taken over the second floor.” Sol grinned. At the door, she took Kaidan’s hand, leading him from the room.

“Mommy.” Lenka tugged on the sleeve of Shepard’s blouse. Holding up the pad, she pointed to a rundown looking, old, wooden house. “It’s the mother house. I lived here when I was little.”

Shepard hugged her tight. “Brilliant. I’ll let Terion’s _pari_ know and then we’ll go make sure the master and mistress don’t hurt anyone else.” She looked up, her hand reaching out for Garrus’s. “And then this will all finally be over.”


	15. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, how things have changed. A wee bit of hard earned fluff as the prepare to take down the slaver base.

**August 15, 2188**

“Well? You ready?” Shepard asked, looking at the child who sat astride her hip. Above them, the _Normandy_ stood poised in its docking cradle. The ship seemed to strain at its tethers, a falcon yearning to be set free, as Joker put the thrusters and engines through their pre-flight paces. God, she was beautiful. A few metres away, the ramp stood open, the ship beckoning to her previous captain, welcoming her home. Shepard pulled away from that lure to focus on her daughter.

Lenka shrugged and ducked her face into Shepard’s neck, nuzzling in against the admiral’s collar. Her slight frame trembled, and Shepard could hear her teeth chattering together.

“Baby?” She pulled away, gently drawing Lenka back so she could look into the child’s face. “Are you scared to go back on the _Normandy_?” Sure enough, the child’s normally olive skin looked waxy and pale between the fading bruises. Brushing a gentle finger down a cheek fold, Shepard ducked down, trying to meet Lenka’s gaze. “It’s okay if you are, you know?” She pulled the child back against her, hugging her. “If you want to stay here, we can.”

Lenka shook her head. “Too old to be afraid,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of Shepard’s academy uniform.

A wide, loving smile warmed Shepard’s face. “Oh my girl, you’re never too old to be afraid. I wish that were true.” She glanced over at Garrus, her smile evolving into a grin as she watched her husband trying to juggle Mercy and their baggage. Nudging Lenka, she nodded toward the epic struggle of torin versus luggage. “Should we help the big guy out?”

“I’m sure it’s far more entertaining to watch,” Garrus grumbled, shooting a petulant glare across at them. 

Lenka pulled away. “I’ll help, Daddy.” She slipped down from Shepard’s arms and ran over. Shepard’s smile softened again, and she closed her eyes against the mist that tried to form, savouring the sharp, quick clatter of Lenka’s shoes on the tarmac.

_If I ever take that for granted … . Well ... just don’t let me take it for granted._

She opened her eyes as Garrus said, “You need to be careful not to hurt that arm, Pretty Eyes.” He helped Lenka sling the baby’s bag over her shoulder then passed her his attaché case. “Here, you guard all of Palaven’s state secrets.” His mandibles spread and fluttered once as he glanced around as if searching for spying eyes and ears. “I’m trusting you to keep that safe.”

Shepard let out a long breath and shook her head. “Come on, load me up, and lets get our butts on board.” She strode over to him, arms held out. “Did you remember to pack Jane?” Catching the moment of panic that froze Lenka’s face, she whispered, “Please tell me you packed Jane.”

Garrus grumbled, levelling another very petulant glare at Shepard. “I’m not an amateur. Of course I did. She’s in Mercy’s bag.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Sol called. Shepard turned to see her sister-in-law and Kaidan striding down the ramp. “You want us to forget about the nugget you’ve got growing in there, but your distraction techniques don’t work on us, lady.” The _tarin_ winked, tossing a cheeky grin over her shoulder.

Shepard took a deep breath, the oily stink of sun-baked tarmac pricking her nose. Her stomach gave a sickening flop, but she shoved the reaction aside, focusing on Sol. “I lost most of my skin crossing the ruins of Cipritine … and I climbed a cliff when I was this pregnant with Mercy,” Shepard reminded her, raising an indignant and emphatic pointer-finger. “And it was a really tall, steep cliff. I think I can handle a little luggage.” 

Sol threw a duffel over either shoulder, grunting a little as the weight thumped down on her back. “Yeah, well, I’ll concede to that argument when Balak shows up and buries you in luggage. Until then, stow it.” She pinned Shepard with a teasing stare as she passed by, holding it until she needed to turn away or trip over the _Normandy’s_ ramp.

“Here,” Garrus called, “you can carry our other nugget.” He passed Mercy over, then turned back to help Kaidan with the crib and remaining bags. “Remember when it was just pack a kit, sling it over your shoulder, and go?” he asked, groaning a little under the weight.

Shepard slipped Mercy’s carrier over her head then reached behind her to fasten the other buckle. She chuckled and bent down to nuzzle the dark red silk that ran riot over the top of the baby’s head. “Nope. It could never have been that easy.” Holding out a hand, she drew Lenka back to her side and wrapped an arm around the child’s shoulders. “Ready to go?”

Despite the firm nod that answered Shepard’s question, Lenka stared up the ramp as though she was being asked to march into the maw of a great monster. 

Lifting Mercy a little, Shepard crouched next to the batarian, a comforting hand pressed between the sharp points of her shoulder blades. “Hey, it’s not too late for you to say you want to stay here. Daddy and Kaidan can just bring our stuff back down.”

Lenka spun and threw her arms around Shepard’s neck. “The master and mistress’s shadows want to hurt people like they hurt me.” She pulled back just far enough to meet Shepard’s stare. “They want me to be afraid.” The child’s shoulders twitched as she let out a frustrated little grumble.

Shepard rubbed Lenka’s back. “It’s not always easy to describe the way things make us feel, is it?” she asked. When the child nodded, Shepard let out a faint sigh. “What I think you’re telling me is that you’re afraid of them, but you hate it, because it makes you feel small and weak.” Cocking her head a little, the admiral raised her eyebrows in query.

“I don’t want to feel like that,” the child said, her words a ringing declaration that echoed back. 

“Well then, let’s go arrest them, and if you want to, you can look them both straight in the eyes and take that power back.” Pride … no, not pride … awe … burned bright and hot at the back of Shepard’s skull. “How does that sound?”

“You’ll stay with me?” A pleading stare latched onto Shepard, tugging hard at her heart.

“Once we’ve made sure everything is safe, I’ll stick with you as long as you want me to.” Shepard pulled Lenka close and kissed her temple. “I’ll hold you so close and so tight that you’ll barely be able to breathe.”

Lenka giggled and turned to kiss Shepard, a soft quick peck. “Because you love me?”

“More than the moon loves the stars.” She stood, and held out her hand for Lenka’s. “Come on, let’s go kick some butt.”

“Major Alenko!” a smoky, flanged voice shouted from behind Shepard.

She spun to face the familiar call as the primarch dashed across the tarmac from the terminal, his assistant and two bodyguards following close behind. 

Adrien slowed as he passed Shepard, striding toward Kaidan. “Permission to come aboard, Major?” As he stopped at the base of the ramp, his hand lifted, the automatic gesture of someone used to spending his day greeting people. 

“Of course, Primarch, permission granted.” Kaidan gripped the primarch’s wrist, his consideration for turian custom making Shepard smile. The major might just end up in the running for a senate seat when the time came. “Your people have the state rooms on the command deck.” He gestured to Steve. “Lt. Cortez, please show the primarch to his cabin.”

“Thank you, Major.” Adrien clapped Kaidan on the shoulder, then glanced back at Shepard. “I’ll see the three of you on board.” He winked at Lenka, then turned and strode up the ramp, looking as excited as a newly graduated private heading into his first assignment.

Shepard understood. As full and busy as her life was, she missed space, the feel of the deck plating humming beneath her feet, the hit of adrenaline as she stepped off the shuttle into a firefight … . 

“Coming aboard?” Kaidan asked. “Or are you just going to stand there staring at her all day?” He crouched and held out his arms, inviting Lenka to catch a lift. The child leapt into his arms with enough force that he nearly fell over backwards.

“How are we going to fit all these people?” she whispered to Kaidan as he staggered upright and parked the little batarian on one hip. 

“I only pulled in a skeleton staff,” he replied, leaning down to scoop up the handle of the last bag. “The primarch’s people are going to take the staterooms, you and your circus have the captain’s cabin, and the rest of us are bunking in with the crew.” He tipped his head toward the ramp then kissed Lenka on the cheek, before he asked, “Well, Captain Lenka, should we go put some slavers out of business?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Lenka squeezed him tight. “Yep.”

Shepard followed the pair up the ramp, chuckling as Lenka tried to guess the flavour of cake being served at dinner, and Kaidan shot down all her guesses, teasing with flavours like earthworm and moldy cheese. She stopped about halfway down the cargo bay, pausing to just breathe the _Normandy_ in. Her years aboard both the SR2 and her predecessor had brought so much good, bad, beautiful, and horrific into her life.

She missed it. All of it.

Maybe after their lives got a chance to normalize and classes began at the academy, she’d discover that her new life held just as much adventure and appeal as the old one. Taking a deep breath, she grinned at the bite of ozone, the slight polymer undertone of new deckplating, gun oil, and armour repair resin. Everyone’s footsteps echoed a little, allowing her to track each person there. 

“Glorious, isn’t it?” she asked Mercy, but the baby just yawned, rested her head against Shepard’s chest, and closed her eyes. “Everyone’s a critic.” 

“You having concentration problems, Admiral?” Kaidan hollered, his voice echoing around the near empty space. “Should I call Doc Chakwas?”

“Oh, shut up, Major,” Shepard groused, setting out for the elevator. “I still swear that this ship needs a brig.”

“You can’t lock me up. You’re not even in my chain of command any longer.” He stood taller, cocking his head as he preened.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Major. _Normandy_ is attached to the academy. You instruct in two departments, and I’m Vice-Chancellor.” She grinned as the self-congratulations melted from his face, replaced by an over-emoted dread. “There it is … the realization that I own you.” 

Laughing, she butted him gently with a shoulder, waking Mercy who frowned and tipped right back into sleep. Shepard looked back to Kaidan, catching him with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. 

“What?” she asked, a scowl tightening all the skin around her eyes. “You okay, Kaidan?”

He nodded and smiled, the expression so filled with joy and hope that her frown melted away. “I’m perfect,” he replied. “I was just thinking about Horizon. I was an idiot, but we came out of it okay, right? I couldn’t have imagined either one of us ending up where we are, but it’s amazing.” He set down the bag in his hand and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Forget you’re my boss for a minute, will you?” He pressed a soft kiss against her brow. “I’m really happy for you, Shepard.”

“And I’m so happy for you,” she replied, squeezing him in a one-armed hug. “We’re in a good place, Major. We’re both really lucky.”

Pulling away, he grinned. “Sol kicks my ass, but she’s amazing.” He grabbed the duffel and stepped to the door. “She’ll take me more than a lifetime to figure out, but it’ll be worth it.” His next breath caught. “I just … .” 

She didn’t need him finish the sentence. Not when the same shadow loomed over Garrus. A firm hand on his shoulder turned him to face her. “We’ll get them through whatever happens, Kaidan.” She pressed her lips tight on a smile. “ _We’ll_ get through whatever happens. We’re family. For now, lets focus on getting you two married and started down the road to having to pack all this crap every time you go anywhere.”

He grinned and turned back as the door opened. “Yeah. That sounds really good.”

Lenka looked back and forth between them. “Kaidan and Ami Sol are going to have little ones?” Her eyes widened as she asked, the expression on her face adorably surprised and intense.

Kaidan shrugged. “Sure we are. Going to adopt a whole herd just as amazing as you.” He kissed her cheek. “Then you can come babysit for us. How does that sound?”

“Mother Da’lat said I was really good at looking after the littles,” Lenka said, the pride in her voice nudging Shepard’s lips into a grin. “I never got cross with them like some of the mothers.”

“They’re going to be so happy to see you again,” Shepard said. She hit the door control. When it opened, she made it two strides into the room before stopping dead to gawk like an idiot. “What the heck?”

Garrus straightened from setting up the crib next to the bed, a wide, self-congratulatory grin on his face. After a second, he shrugged and looked over at the festive, sparkling decorations covering the lower section of the cabin. “We never got a chance to do this when it was season appropriate.”

Shepard tried to speak, but ended up choking on the lump that jumped ahead of her words to lodge in her throat. She settled for nodding. Descending the stairs, she walked over to him, took his face between her hands and kissed him, letting her lips tell him everything her stupid emotions kept tying in knots.

“Yep,” Kaidan said, setting Lenka down at the top of the stairs. “Tonight we have a proper christmas party.”

“Christmas?” Lenka hopped down the stairs, her eyes wide, all fear forgotten as she squealed. “They’re so pretty.”

Shepard turned to watch Lenka, bumping Garrus with her hip. “Have I mentioned that I love you recently?”

He pressed a hand to the small of her back. “I don’t think you have, and considering how amazing I am, you probably should.” The chuckle that followed his words warmed her straight through.

“Well, you are pretty amazing.” She unbuckled Mercy’s carrier and laid her on the bed, careful not to wake her again.

“What’s christmas, Mommy?” Lenka asked, climbing up on one of the sofas to touch the long garlands of glistening silver, red, and green.

Shepard walked over, scooting between the coffee table and the couch, and held out her arms. Gathering Lenka into a backwards hug, she rested her chin on the child’s shoulder and let out a long sigh. “Christmas is a special day to a fair number of humans. The religious side is a celebration of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. The rest is about celebrating family and the spirit of giving.”

Her gaze travelled along the garlands and paper snowflakes. “My parents loved Christmas. We had so many amazing traditions.” She sat down, pulling her daughter into her lap. “But my very favourite was Christmas Eve, we’d all walk to the church, gather into groups, all holding candles … the whole little settlement twinkling like stars … and we’d sing carols and christmas songs.” 

Closing her eyes, Shepard held the memory close. “The inky darkness, the fire and candlelight, hot chocolate.” She smiled. “My father’s arms around me, the deep rumble of his voice echoing through the night. I always felt so safe and loved and happy.” She opened her eyes and looked up, meeting the intensity of Garrus’s gaze. “Thank you, love.”

Garrus nodded, his mandibles fluttering once. “The crew helped, digging all this out of storage and setting it up.”

“We’ll be ready down in the mess at 1900 hrs,” Kaidan said. He set down his burdens and trotted up the stairs. “Meanwhile, I need to get this boat in the air and underway.”

“See you later, and thanks, Major,” Shepard called after him. When the door closed, she nuzzled Lenka’s cheek. “Should we get ourselves unpacked and ready for the party?”

Lenka nodded and wriggled off Shepard’s lap. “I’ll make up my bed.”

An hour later, their quarters looked as though they’d never left. Shepard ran the two girls through the shower, then headed in to take one herself. She’d no sooner stripped down when the door opened, and Garrus stepped through.

Cocking an eyebrow, she turned to her husband, one corner of her mouth twitching a little as she struggled to control her smile. “Who’s watching the girls?” she asked.

Lenka wanted to go see Joker, so Tali and Traynor took her and Mercy on the tour,” he replied. “I was sitting out there, working on something … can’t recall what, suddenly… when it occurred to me that I hadn’t just stared at my naked wife in weeks.” He tried to slide his arms around her, but she slipped away, retreating over by the shelves.

Shepard held out her arms and turned a slow circle. “Well, here she is, in all her nakedness.” Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she just managed to suppress the grin fighting to escape. “Now, you should probably get back to what you were doing.”

Garrus just shook his head and reached over to turn on the shower, steam billowing up from the cold, metal floor within moments. “We’ve got about an hour, and haven’t wasted water in far too long.” Deft hands unsnapped his tunic and shrugged it off his cowl, then his shoulders. “Come here,” he said, a deep, lusty rumble underscoring his words. 

She crossed the metre and a half, the metal cool under softly padding feet. Each step, she crossed her feet one in front of the other so her thighs brushed together and her hips rolled a little, swinging provocatively. “Yes, Garrus,” she whispered as she stood before him, smiling a little as his mandibles dropped, spread and twitched. 

As their eyes met, her cheeks heated and her belly filled with tiny phoenixes, each living a fraction of a second before bursting into flame. Their warmth spread, focusing itself between her legs in a most delicious way. God, how much did she love that he could turn her into a blushing bundle of raw nerve endings?

“Would you like to ask me something?” he said softly, those blue eyes all steel and white-hot flame.

“May I finish undressing you?” she whispered, hoping that was what he meant. 

A single nod. “You may.” His talons whispered over her cheek, gentle and loving as she knelt before him, her fingers reaching up to unfasten his leggings. 

Once she freed his spur, Shepard leaned up to ease the leggings off his hips and down, throwing them aside as he stepped clear. Instead of rising, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him through the steam, and offered her hands for the brush and cleanser. He backed under the water, then passed them over.

Kisses and caresses followed the small brush from his talons up both legs as Shepard took her time, reacquainting herself with all the places that turned her tough, stoic husband into a big ol’ puddle of quivering desire. She washed around his spur, showing mercy for the time being, not wanting to tip him too far too soon.

When she reached his plates, she looked up again, meeting his eyes for a moment, before closing hers. Savouring the hot water that beat down on her skin, she leaned into him, cheek brushing against the seam, moaning soft and low as the plates moved.

“Ask,” he said, his voice heavy with want, his breathing quick and deep. She traced fingertips down the long, taut, trembling muscles in his thighs. His control cost him, but he held everything in tight fists nonetheless.

Stare locked onto stare, she leaned into him, brushing her breasts against his thighs as her hands massaged the hollows of his hips, thumbs catching his plates to pull them apart slightly with every circle. “Please, Garrus. I want to taste you,” she said, her voice burrowing down into her throat, smoky and low. The words sent a slow, molten wave rippling through her body to center in her pelvis, a tiny pulsar of desire sparking to life, spinning slowly. As he answered with another single nod, his pupils constricting to near pinpricks, her thumbs drew him apart just wide enough for her tongue to sneak through.

Two long sweeps of her tongue through the velvet soft folds of his sheath brought him out to press against her lips. She let him in millimetre by millimetre, tongue applying pressure against his eagerness, drawing slow, lazy designs on his skin. A long, drawn out keen of need that she felt rather than heard escaped him, the subvocals raising the hair along her arms and the back of her neck. Each and every movement she made elicited a response. Subtle, teasing touches—tongue, lips, jaw … her hands on his thighs and belly ... subtle shifts in position as the floor kinked her knees or her body reacted to his—plucked his strings until he shuddered and trembled within her embrace. One hand clung to the wall, the other tangled in her hair as gentle, nonsensical endearments tumbled from his mouth.

Feeling how tightly coiled he’d become, she eased back. He reached down, both hands sliding under her arms, lifting her to her feet in a single movement. Instead of cradling her in his arms, burying himself within her, he leaned down, gathering the forgotten brush and cleanser. Placing them in her hands, he surprised her by turning around to brace against the wall.

Shepard smiled and dragged the brush across the gritty, pumice surface and set in, leaning into the circular strokes along his cowl, more gentle where plate turned to hide. When she finished his back, he turned, eyes staring down at her as if trying to memorize her. She saw that he’d brought himself under control to the point where he’d slipped back into his plates. 

As she bathed him, he rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs stroking along her collarbone and up the grooves in her throat. She finished and he took her place, using cloth and soap, he washed her, his touches remaining chaste until he rinsed the soap away. Turning her away from him, he pulled her back against his length, one arm wrapping strong and solid around her body.

“Don’t come unless I ask it,” he whispered in her ear, his voice soft, warm, and rolling with subvocals. “Do you understand?”

Shepard leaned into him, allowing him to support her. “Yes, Garrus.” Closing her eyes, she smiled, soft and eager. She hadn’t felt his hands on her, hadn’t taken him inside her for weeks, a state of affairs her body demanded come to an end.

A long talon slipped between her legs, not altogether gently. She jumped, slipping on the wet floor, but his arms held her tight. Briskly, almost roughly, he urged her toward climax. 

Clinging to him, she rode the hard, fast waves, building until she could barely stand. Just when she thought her body would disobey him, coming despite her control, he withdrew his hand, wrapping that arm around her to hold her close. 

She mewled softly, melting into his arms as her legs turned to rubber. “Please?”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his mouth pressed to her ear, his mandible tickling her jaw. 

She did, her breath loud and raspy in her ears, her heart pounding against her ribs. Every breath fed the pulsar deep within, speeding and deepening the need until her entire body jumped to its rhythm. Every line where his plates dug into her back burned, hot and sweet, and his hips moved ever so slightly, taunting her backside with every shift of weight and balance. Damn him. Exacting the tiniest amount of revenge, she rubbed against his groin plates, smiling at the throaty, moaned rumble that answered her. 

“Feel all that need?” he asked. She felt him smile in response to her nod. “Good. I want you to turn it into light.” He chuckled in response to her scowl, a thumb talon brushing her brow as if trying to smooth it away. “Go on, transform all that ache and hunger into light, then let it fill you. Saturate your entire being with it.”

She did what he said, envisioning that the pulsar emitted a bright, gold light that slipped along muscles, seeped into tissues, and crackled along her neurons. A smile painted over the scowl, and she straightened, not only standing only her own feet, but feeling stronger than she had in a long time.

“That’s it exactly.” He nuzzled her ear. “Tonight, I want you to keep breathing into that ache, keep pulsing those muscles … fan the fire and let it burn.” He stepped back without releasing her, drawing her toward the mirror. 

Shepard cast her eyes down as she caught a glimpse of herself, all too familiar with the sallow, dark eye sockets, the gaunt cheeks and too thin torso. The fiery, beautiful glow began to wane but then Garrus slipped a talon under her chin, lifting her head. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t let it go. Do what I said.” He pressed his hand against her groin. “Contract all your muscles down here and breathe into it.” When she obeyed and concentrated once more, letting the light fill her skin, he nipped her ear and rumbled, “Good girl.”

How did he know? Love and gratitude spilled into the light, gems sparkling with reflected glow.

“Now, trust me and open your eyes. Keep breathing into that light and look at yourself, Shepard.” His tone carried such love, such safety in its acceptance, she didn’t even hesitate.

Opening her eyes, she stared into the mirror, and for a second, she couldn’t be sure who she was looking at. The woman in the mirror seemed to shine like the sun, her eyes alight and sparkling, as if she hid some wonderful secret. Dark circles, gaunt cheeks, and protruding bones all faded into the background, smoothed over by … what was it?

Shepard reached out, fingertips pressing to the misty glass. “Who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely lifting above a breath.

“This is the woman I see every time I look at you,” Garrus said, pulling her tight against him. “Powerful, strong, sexy, loving … .” He bent to nuzzle her shoulder. “You’ve been believing a lie since Cerberus brought you back, Shepard.” His eyes met hers in the reflection. “This is my christmas gift to you … the truth.” He turned her around and cradled her face between his hands. “Time to stop believing the lie.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Garrus.”

He nodded and held her tight. “Always, Shepard. I will never let you get so lost that I can’t find you.”

She pulled back and reached up, caressing his mandibles and down the groove of his throat until her hands rested just inside his cowl. “I love you so much.” Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. “But I don’t know how to help you,” she admitted. “I know you’re drowning, but … .”

He pulled her back into his arms. “This helps, Shepard. As long as we have this, I can find my way back.”

She held him tight, willing some of the light he’d helped her discover to flow into him. “Whatever I have is yours, always,” she replied, unable to fend off the chill his words prompted.

“I know.” Stepping back, he brushed her hair away from her face. “You’ve forgotten your task.” He smiled. “I want you to concentrate on keeping that fire burning all through the party.” He kissed her. “Just stay away from Adrien. The humans won’t clue in to what’s going on—” 

Shepard laughed and kissed him hard. “Please stop worrying. If Adrien clues into anything, it will be that my husband has worked his wife into a lather. Let’s get dry, dress for the party and just relax for the night.”

She glanced back at her reflection as he reached for the towels. The truth. Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did it. Got another chapter out hot on the heels of the previous. Things start to heat up again next chapter, but I thought we can always use a little bit of hot fluff first. :) Thanks so much for reading, and drop a comment if you want to say hi. I do enjoy hearing from people. 
> 
> Oh, and as of today, As You Wish, the Jack-Nihlus fic has become canon for Machinations. I will be posting a new chapter for it as soon as I get the next FI chapter written.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and her family arrive at the facility where Lenka was born to face down the batarians who stole her.

**August 16, 2188**

Shepard jumped down off the end of the _Normandy’s_ ramp. Taking a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air, the admiral braced herself for whatever came next. Spirits, she hoped it wasn’t horrific. She almost laughed at that. After all her years as a soldier, had she ever been pleasantly surprised by a lack of horror? Although she couldn’t be certain, she didn’t think so.

Lifting her hand to her radio, she called, “Okay, Joker, put me through on the exterior comms.” She waited, her eyes searching the mansion’s entrances and windows for any sign of enemy. To her right a massive fence blocked off the slave compound, but the gate showed no sign of opening. It seemed a stretch to hope that the new management had just left out details like guards. Still, nothing moved in the dilapidated gardens but for heavy heat shimmers off the barren soil, and only the thick, lazy drone of insects broke the silence.

“You’re live, Shepard,” Joker’s voice said in her ear.

“Roger that, thanks Joker.” Shepard clicked over channels. “This is Admiral Jane Shepard of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. My people and I are here to liberate this facility and arrest Mi’irill Derahk and Dra’riz fer Derahk for the crimes of operating a slaving facility, participating in the trade of sapients for the purpose of slavery, abduction, multiple counts of causing grievous harm to a minor, multiple counts of grievous neglect of a minor, and a host of other crimes against sapience.” 

Rage, molten and explosive, built with every word, and for a moment, she wished the batarians would come out, guns blazing, preferring to go out in a hail of bullets than face the long humiliation of a trial and incarceration. If wishing for an excuse to put a bullet through both of their skulls made her a bad person, well … so be it.

She pushed aside the image of their slack, ruined faces, blood leaking from holes between their upper set of eyes, along with the nausea-inducing pleasure that accompanied it. Her job was to protect the innocents who would be caught in the crossfire if it came to a hail of bullets.

“We will not fire unless fired upon. If you wish to surrender, you will not be harmed. Nor will we hold anyone responsible for performing their duties under duress.” A short, half-formed prayer drifted through. Hopefully any slaves acting as guards would value their freedom above protecting the scum holding their leash. “If you come out with your hands raised, you will be ushered to safety until this facility is secure.”

She closed the channel and waved Alpha team forward, sending them to the gates leading to the rest of the compound. “Secure the Mother House and dormitory first so we can use them as safe houses.” Leading Bravo team forward, she headed toward the main door into the mansion. “Everyone, if attacked, try to take them down with minimum injury. I won’t give Balak the satisfaction of turning this into a bloodbath.”

“Bravo team, roger, Shepard,” Garrus responded. 

“Charlie team understands, Admiral,” Tali’s voice said in her ear.

Glancing toward the gate, she saw Garrus moving Alpha team into cover. Charlie wouldn’t come off the ship unless needed.

A small door on the side of the house opened, catching Shepard’s attention. An older batarian female and young human appeared, their hands held out away from their bodies.

“Charlie, we have noncombatants at door two,” Shepard called. She lowered her Mattock and smiled at the women. “Some people are coming off the ship to escort you to safety. Head that way, my people won’t hurt you.”

They nodded, quick jerks of their heads, then scurried toward the _Normandy_.

“Alpha team entering compound through gate prime, now,” Garrus called.

“Roger that, Alpha.” No one else appeared by the time Shepard took cover on the right side of the main door, Kaidan mirroring her on the left. 

“Bravo team entering the mansion now through door one.” She counted off on her fingers. Three … two … one … then threw open the door. He entered first, his assault rifle sweeping left to right even before he crossed the threshold. 

Shepard counted under her breath, reaching five before he called out, “Clear.” She swung through the door, and moved to the right, knowing that Kaidan tended to veer left. A small, grim smile of satisfaction greeted the fact that the team still functioned like a well-oiled machine. The Marines slipped inside on their heels to cover the flanks and rear.

A wide, marble hall bisected the house, the first of many doors on Kaidan’s side of the hall. Shepard waited for the major to press his back against the wall, training her Mattock on the door before she nodded. He swung it open to reveal … .

Dear God, what was she looking at? The smell … . A mouthful of vomit bullied its way up her esophagus, but she choked it down, the sour acid stripping her throat like paint thinner. Forcing aside her reaction, she nodded to Kaidan, and stepped past him into a room that must have once been opulent in the extreme. Now the richly coloured silks, tapestries, and upholsteries hung ragged and filthy, covered in a horrific combination of blood, feces, and things she didn’t look at too closely.

“Is anyone alive in here?” she asked, weapon sweeping over the carnage. Filthy, skeletal females lay draped over chaise lounges, stools, the floor—all unconscious and naked but for their chains. After Kaidan took his place at her six, she crouched next to one, pulled off her glove and pressed two fingers under the human’s jaw. “She’s got a pulse,” she said, then reached up to her radio. 

“Charlie, if you don’t have any more noncombatants surrendering, we need to get the mansion cleared and fast.” She changed channels. “Karin, you’re going to need to have a med team prepped and ready the second we get the house secure.” She changed the channel again. “How’s it going, Alpha?”

“No resistance inside the compound, Bravo,” Garrus repled. “The guards disarmed before we entered. Mother House and male dormitory are secure. No sign of Leviathan orbs.” 

“Roger that, Alpha. Shepard, out.” 

The woman lying at Shepard’s feet opened her eyes, just a faint flutter of eyelashes, then an unsteady gaze slid over the admiral’s face.

“You’re all right,” Shepard said, laying a gentle hand on the woman’s naked shoulder, trying not to shudder at the rings and chains pierced through most of her body. “We’ll get a doctor in here as soon as we can.” She looked up at Kaidan and nodded toward the door. “I’ll wait for Charlie and catch up with you in a second. Take the other two and check the next door down.” 

The major nodded and double-timed it to the door and out.

“What’s your name?” Shepard asked, brushing the woman’s hair away from her face. 

The deep brown eyes drifted closed. “Thirty-seven.” The words drifted out, barely more than a breath, but they sparked a fire in Shepard’s gut. It caught like dry kindling, burning hot and fierce. 

“You rest,” she managed to force past the vice clamped around her throat. “We’ll get you looked after.” Shepard pulled on her glove then grabbed a throw off the nearest chaise and spread it over the woman. When she heard the outside door open, she pushed up off her knee and headed for the threshold. 

“Charlie team entering the door one,” Tali called.

“Roger that, Charlie. Aquarium,” she called before stepping through the door.

“Hamster,” an exasperatingly familiar, smoky voice replied with the recognition code.

She walked out the door, turning a stern glare on the primarch and his body guards. “This is not the sort of situation the primarch of Palaven should be walking into.” Muttering a long, curse-laden grumble, she shook her head, then cracked her neck. 

“I tried, Shepard,” Tali said, pushing past the primarch none too gently. “I think he might be more ornery than you.”

Shepard nodded and sighed. “I know, Tali.” Arguing with Adrien would get her nowhere but five minutes further away from clearing the house. 

She pointed toward a side corridor that led toward the kitchen and servants quarters. “Clear the back side of the house, then head up the rear stairs,” she told Tali. “Recog code theta.” She turned after Kaidan, then glanced back. “Don’t get yourself shot, Victus. Heroic, slave-freeing, _dead_ primarchs just get funerals … not the sort of publicity you’re looking for.”

Adrien chuckled, setting off a firework in her chest. For the space of ten heartbeats he came closer to taking a fist to the mandible than he would ever know. Damned stubborn idiot was going to get himself killed and leave her as first lady of Palaven. 

She stalked down the hallway, following Kaidan’s team toward the master’s private wing. If Garrus ended up primarch before the end of the day, she’d bring Adrien back from the dead just to kill him herself.

The house remained deserted but for a few domestics found cowering in closets or under beds. Each time, she talked them out and sent them down to take care of the room full of carnal slaves. She passed through most rooms without really seeing them, too intent on finding the people to pay much attention to the furnishings and appointments, but the entire place felt neglected and stripped down, as if the occupants had been forced to sell off their belongings to survive.

Upstairs, they reached the far front corner of the house, and the last closed door. Shepard pressed close, listening for a moment before she activated her omnitool and scanned the space.

“Two people in the back of the room, six between them and the door, two just on the other side with guns,” she told Kaidan through hand signals. When he nodded and took cover next to the door, she thumped the side of her fist against the carved ebony wood.

“This is Admiral Jane Shepard. We have control of this facility. The two inside the door. Drop your weapons and back up with the others. I don’t want anyone to die here today.” She bypassed the door control, then gave Kaidan the countdown and palmed it.

Two turians stood ahead of the others, assault rifles still in their hands. One of them lowered the muzzle a couple of centimetres. “Do we have your promise not to hurt the slaves?” he demanded, stepping sideways to block them.

Shepard stepped out into the open, holding her Mattock down and away. “You do. What’s your name?” Taking a step into the room, she scanned the terrified faces all working hard to stare at the floor.

“Name’s Aidan,” he said. “It’s my job to protect these people.”

“You a slave, son?” she asked, a maternal swell of affection for the brave fellow pushing back some of the bleak chill. 

He turned his head far enough for her to see the interface wired into his spine. 

She gagged on another thick dose of poison and nodded. “Okay. You don’t have to protect them from us, Aidan. We’re just here for those two cowards back there.” Stepping aside, she gestured toward the door. “Give your guns to the men at the door, then get these people out of here.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then turned and reached out to lay his hand on the shoulder of the closest slave, a young female batarian. “Go ahead. Lurius and I will be with you the whole way.” He nodded to the second turian who gathered a ragged young human against his side and led the way to the door. 

“Charlie, we have eight noncombatants coming toward the back stairs. Take them directly to the Mother House.” Shepard called without taking her eyes off the two batarians sitting on the sofa.

“Roger that, Bravo,” Tali replied.

“How about you, Alpha? Copy that?” She took a step forward, a grim gash of a smile showing her teeth when they winced away from her.

“Copied, Bravo. Sending an escort to bring them in. Alpha out.”

Shepard glanced back and nodded to Aidan. “They’ll take your people into the Mother House. Would you be willing to return and help me sort this mess out when the others are safe?” 

The turian gave her a crisp nod, and ushered the last slave through the door.

The innocent victims taken care of, Shepard focused all her attention on the two batarians huddled together, their fear ripe and stinking and glorious. Her smile twisted with a heady, sadistic satisfaction at their trembling, and she felt no need to hurry things along. Let them wonder. Let them sit there and imagine every sick and agonizing thing she’d do to them in her revenge.

“Bravo, Charlie has custody of the noncombatants in the kitchen. Taking them out now.”

Shepard took a long breath. “Understood, Charlie. Shepard, out.”

The male rose from the couch, suddenly as huge and belligerent as the day he and his mate had come to claim Lenka. Only able to see one of his hands, Shepard anticipated, swinging her Mattock up under his wrist. The pistol flew from his hand even as he pulled it, his wrist giving way with the sickening crack of a twig under a boot. Stepping into the blow, the admiral brought the rifle butt around, slamming into his face with enough force to throw him onto the sofa, a gash carved into his cheek. She loomed over him as he cowered, every fiber of her being screaming to beat the both of them to death slowly … to soak herself to the shoulders in their blood. Never had Shepard experienced the lust to injure and kill like she did in that moment.

The male lunged back up, either ego or pride insisting that he not give in to the human female so quickly.

The monster inside her roared, euphoric as a fresh jolt of adrenaline seared through her. “That’s it. Come on,” Shepard baited, her voice low and fierce. “Fight back. Give me an excuse to beat you into a bloody pile of broken bones.”

After a breath, he deflated, all the fight draining out of him.

Shepard turned to the female. “How about you? Going to fight back?”

“Please,” the female whispered. “We aren’t armed. We can’t hurt you.”

Shepard grabbed her by the collar of her blouse, dragging her up until they were pressed nose to nose. “Why should I care about that? Did that stop you from beating that beautiful seven-year-old child until she wasn’t even recognizable? Did her crying, her pleading and messing herself in terror, make any difference to you? Or did you just keep hitting her?” She sneered as the smell of urine stung her nose. Instead of releasing her she dragged the female over to Kaidan. “Put cuffs on this bitch.”

As the major did just that, Shepard balled up a fist full of the female’s shirt, ensuring she had a good, tight grip. “My doctor tells me that to pulverize the bones in her face the way they were, she had to be hit with something solid, like a baseball bat or a pipe.” 

“Done, Shepard,” Kaidan reported.

“Cuff the other one and bring him.” Shepard dragged the female from the room and down the corridor to the stairs. She slowed only minutely as she shoved the batarian ahead of her down the staircase, letting her stumble down the last two stairs. 

“Please,” the woman wept, curling up into a ball on the floor.

“Shut up. I’m not the one you need to plead with.” Shepard dragged her back up onto her feet, propelling her through the hallways to the front door. “Charlie, are your noncombatants secure?”

“Yes, ma’am. Alpha has custody at the Mother House,” Tali replied.

“Good, head over to the _Normandy_ , and check with the general to see if she still wants to face these criminals. If so, I’ll meet her in the garden.”

“Understood, Shepard,” Tali replied.

“Shepard and Alenko coming out door one, prisoners in custody.” Mashing the female against the glass, Shepard palmed the door control. 

The brightness blinded Shepard as they stepped out into the sun. Blinking rapidly, she managed to clear up the spots in time to see Tali, Adrien, and Sol bringing Lenka down the ramp.

Shepard whipped the batarian around. “Look at her,” she said. “Look at how sweet and wonderful she is. You hit that precious baby, my precious baby, with a pipe.” With a huge heave, Shepard threw the woman back into the two Marines. They caught her, struggling to hold her upright.

Shepard leapt after her, pulling up just short and clenching her fists to avoid pummeling someone in front of her child. “Did she scream? Beg for you to stop? Ask what she’d done wrong? Call out for me and her father?” She sliced the air with her hand, needing every ounce of restraint she possessed to stop it before it connected with the batarian’s face. “You stole my child, told me that I wasn’t fit to raise her, and then tortured her for six months.” Biting down on the inside of her bottom lip, she used the pain as a focus to keep her tears at bay. She wouldn’t give them any more of her pain than they’d already stolen. No more tears. Not one more. 

Turning to watch her daughter approach—the beautiful, terrified little face pulling a smile onto her reluctant lips—her voice softened and warmed, coming from the very center of her, the place she kept sacred and locked away. “Just look at her. So brave and so kind.” Shepard distanced herself from that place of pure joy, sealing it to keep the fury out. She needed to be reinforced steel, and that part of her had to remain pure if she was to retain her sanity. “If she gets hard because of this, I’ll come to the prison where they’re holding you and beat you to death myself.” She looked over at them, a cold gash of a smile greeting their terror. They knew she meant it. Good.

Shepard turned to Kaidan and the others. “Get these two down on their knees. They don’t look at my daughter except to grovel.”

“My pleasure,” Kaidan said, the growl that underscored his words the only outward sign of his anger. He and the Marines shoved the batarians onto their knees.

“You will be polite and kind to this child,” Shepard warned them. “If you are not, I will have her friends take her back aboard our ship, and I will put a bullet in each of your skulls.” She crouched to meet their eyes at a level, staring at one then the other. An ugly certainty bled out of the black hole that still whispered behind her heart. It slithered between her cells, a caustic, rancid venom. She’d do it and never think of them again. 

“Don’t go to Lenka like this,” Garrus said from just behind her, his voice the exact antivenom she needed.

His hand reached down in front of her, and she closed both of hers around it, pressing his talons to her lips for a second before allowing him to pull her up and into his arms. She rested her brow against his mandible, breathing in the scent of sun-warmed mate until the anger faded—black mold sprayed with bleach—leaving her not quite spotless, but clean enough. 

“Okay?” Garrus whispered, nuzzling her hair before he stepped back. “Same with you, Kaidan,” her husband called. “Keep a neutral face.”

Shepard caught Kaidan’s nod from the corner of her eye, following it with her own as she addressed Garrus’s question. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s give our baby her chance to take her power back.” She slipped her fingers into his talons and they walked over to where the others waited. 

Crouching down in front of Lenka, Shepard smiled, lifting a loving hand to caress a pale cheek. “How are you doing, beautiful girl?” She took Lenka’s hands and squeezed them to still their trembling. “Do you still want to do this?”

Lenka nodded but pushed in between Shepard’s knees, taking shelter against her mother’s body. “I’m scared.”

Garrus crouched at Shepard’s side. “Your mom will have one hand, and I’ll take the other. We’ll both be right there if you want to face them.” One large hand rubbed the child’s back. “They’re both handcuffed, so they can’t touch you.”

“But if you decide you don’t want to,” Shepard said, pulling her into a hug, “that’s totally okay. You just tell us.”

A noisy breath whistled in through the child’s nose and she pulled away, reaching out for their hands. “I want to. I want to be brave.”

“All right.” Shepard straightened and took Lenka’s hand. “Lead on.” Awe, love, and fear waged war as Shepard closed the few metres to where the batarians knelt, their heads down, eyes looking anywhere but at the child. She kept one eye on Lenka, fairly sure she knew her girl well enough to know that Lenka would push herself to where the confrontation did her more harm than good. Still, the little batarian strode out, not pulling at Shepard’s hand, but not lagging behind either. Shepard prayed it showed confidence in their ability to protect her.

Lenka stopped two metres away and looked up at Shepard, focusing an adorably intense frown of bewilderment on her mother. After a second, she held up her arms to be picked up.

Shepard obliged, settling the child on her hip. “What is it, sweetie?”

Lenka leaned close, her lips brushing Shepard’s ear as she whispered, “Mommy, they don’t look like I remember. They don’t look like monsters.” She turned to look down at them. “They just look sad and weak.”

Shepard grinned, tears crowding into her throat and bullying their way out her eyes, her heart taking up all the room in her chest. Thank God for the little miracle in her arms. She swallowed, but even so her voice came out raspy and nasal. “That’s because they’re just people, sweety. They started out like the rest of us, but somewhere along the way, they started making bad choices. Make enough bad choices and you can end up doing horrible things, and not even be sure where it went wrong.” She kissed Lenka’s cheek. “Do you understand?”

Lenka pulled back, staring into her eyes for a long moment. “They listened to the shadows, let them get inside.” She nodded, a wise, knowing nod. “Once they get inside, they make you dark like them.”

Shepard kissed the end of her nose. “You are the wisest person I have ever met, Lenka Shepard-Vakarian, and I am so in awe of you. Do you know that?”

Lenka gave her a quick peck. “I luv yah,” she said, then pushed away. “Let me down, Mommy.”

Shepard did as she was asked, putting her daughter down with much less trepidation than she’d felt before. She started to follow when Lenka walked forward. Although she shouldn’t have been amazed by her little girl’s strength, amazement smacked her in the face again when Lenka turned around.

“I can go by myself, Mommy.”

Shepard just nodded, unable to force words from her throat as Garrus wrapped his arm around her waist. She looked into her husband’s eyes, seeing all her emotions reflected back in his gaze. Giving him a tiny smile and an incredulous shake of her head, she turned back to watch her daughter take those last steps.

Lenka stared at the pair for a few seconds, then placed one tiny hand on each of their bowed heads. “They lied to you. They say they can make you strong and brave. They tell you that if you let them in, you’ll be able to fight back. Don’t listen to them.” After a moment she leaned forward and kissed them both on the head. “Tell them to leave, that you don’t want to live in the dark.”

Shepard let out a ragged, gasping sob and dropped to her knees, her arms waving Lenka into their embrace. When the child ran into them, she hugged her tight and kissed both cheeks. “Oh my beautiful girl.” She pulled away, a light brighter than a hundred suns pouring through her. “Thank you.”

The child frowned, all the intensity and understanding that Shepard had felt from her the moment before dissipating, leaving behind the same sweet child she’d fallen in love with. “For what, Mommy?” Lenka placed her hands on either side of Shepard’s neck.

“For teaching me just as much as I hope you just taught them.” Pulling the child back into her arms, Shepard held her tight. “You are so beautiful. When I went into that house, I was so angry … I was listening to the shadows.” She kissed Lenka’s cheek and let out a long sigh. “And then you burned them away.”

Lenka’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “I don’t understand.” 

Garrus cleared his throat, drawing their attention. Holding his arms out, he shrugged.

“And who are you again?” Shepard asked. She stood and nodded toward her mate. “Do you know this guy?” she asked, looking down at Lenka.

The child giggled then cast a glance behind her at the batarians, as if she didn’t trust or want them at her back. Holding out her hand, she trotted over to Garrus and started leading him toward the _Normandy_.

Shepard glanced at Kaidan and nodded. “Get those two stowed for transport back to Palaven.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He dragged the male up onto his feet.

“Aidan!” Lenka’s cry echoed off the mansion and the fence, reaching approximately the same decibel level as an overclocked racing engine. Shepard spun around in time to see her daughter bolting across the garden and throwing herself at the young turian from upstairs. He grabbed her mid leap and settled her in his arms. The child began talking at a hundred klicks an hour, pouring out everything that had happened to her since, presumably, the last time they’d seen one another.

“Mommy!” Lenka waved her over. “This is Aidan, he used to work for the master, but then the master died, and he worked for the angry man, but then the angry man left, so he worked for the master and mistress.” She stopped and took a huge breath and looked at the _torin_ , her head cocked. “Who do you work for now?”

“He’s free now,” Shepard supplied. “He can work for anyone he wants to.” She smiled and held out a hand to grip Aidan’s wrist. “Pleased to meet you again.” 

“And you, Admiral.” He headbutted Lenka gently. “She used to tell me stories about her parents and their mighty ship.” A gentle talon tickled under the child’s jaw. “A pretty big adventure for such a small person to have.” Looking over at Shepard again, he shrugged. “I was there the day she left for the stars. The master beat her up pretty bad, but she never uttered a word of complaint, just thanking me when I patched her up.”

Shepard looked around, everything suddenly just overwhelming in its intensity … in its contradictions. Her eyesight swam a little, dark spots exploding across her field of vision. Too much emotion, too much stress and worry … . Well, it had to catch up with her eventually.

Work. She needed to work, get the place settled and organized. She needed to get herself settled and organized. “Thank you for being there for her, Aidan,” she said, turning back toward the house. A wave of dizziness tipped her hard to port and she listed, stumbling a couple of steps before getting her feet back under her.

Then Garrus was there, a strong supportive arm wrapped around her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice pitched low, keeping his words just between them.

She straightened and smiled—it felt wan and pale, an early morning mist doomed to face the sun. “It’s all just been a lot to deal with in a few minutes. I’m fine.” The smile gained a little strength. “Remember the way I was when I was pregnant with Mercy?” She jabbed him with her elbow as he rolled his eyes. “Hey, be nice. You’re supposed to be sweet and supportive.”

He led her toward a weatherbeaten bench and pulled her down to sit next to him. “That’s the first pregnancy. The second is the comparative pregnancy. This time I get to say … you’re so much more or less … whatever … than the last time.”

Shepard laughed and leaned into his side. “You do that, you’ll be comparing bruises.” She nodded toward Lenka. “I’m glad she had some good people around her. Doesn’t make her time with those people any less monstrous, but it makes me a little less sad and worried.” A heavy frown furrowed her brow, following hard on the heels of a sigh. “The carnal slaves … is the doc in with them? They’re in horrendous shape.”

As if in answer to her question, Karin and Charlie team exited the _Normandy_ and headed across to the mansion. One less thing to worry about. 

“The spaceport must have a medical facility,” Shepard said, thinking out loud. “Can you call in and see about getting the sickest and most injured transferred there? Tell them the foundation will cover any expenses.” Pressing a hand against his cheek, Shepard met his unspoken question with a little nod. “I’m fine. Let’s get this place settled as quickly as we can so we can just crawl into bed and relax.”

He chuckled, warm and throaty. “It’s always about getting me into bed. It’s how we got into this whole mess, if you recall.” He leaped up away from a sharp elbow jab. “I’ll be back out in a few minutes. Keep someone with you as escort.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral Shepard-Vakarian.” Her smile settled as she watched him walk away. What a completely strange day.

“Mommy!” Lenka ran up and climbed onto the bench next to her. “Can we go to the Mother House, please? I want to see Da’lat and Mother Lucy.” She grinned, huge and toothy, all the fear from the day before gone, burned away by the sun and the compassion that had come over her when she faced her captors. Her face morphed into the practiced, adorable expression of too cute to refuse.

“You know, manipulation is an ugly thing,” Shepard said and sighed, shaking her head. Still, she stood and held out a hand, reaching up to her radio with the other one. “Kaidan, when our prisoners are secure, I have been ordered to keep an escort with me at all times. If you wouldn’t mind sending Sol, I think she is best suited for this purpose.”

“Yes, ma’am, she’ll be on her way in a second.”

Shepard let Lenka drag her toward the gate, stopping next to Aidan, who looked as though he had no clue what to do with himself. “Do you know why the carnal slaves are in that condition?” she asked him before casting a mild frown at her daughter. “Slow down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced toward Lenka and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Shepard raised a palm to stop him. “It’s okay, you don’t need to give me the details. However, if you could give them to our doctor, that would be make her job a lot easier. When you go in the house, if someone calls Doughnuts, reply with Asparagus. That way no one will shoot you by accident.”

He grinned and bobbed his head a little. “Always preferable. So, asparagus.”

Shepard winked then let Lenka continue dragging her to a badly run down but massive wood-frame house. The door hung open, two of the Marines standing guard just outside. They saluted as she passed. 

The first thing that struck Shepard when she stepped inside the Mother House was the difference in the smell from the main house. The place smelled slightly dusty in a homey sort of way, and clean, but as if scrubbed hard with water and vinegar rather than cleaners. For a moment the deja vu hit her so hard, she stumbled again, Mindoir and her family’s home rising around her like an old, beloved ghost.

“Lenka?”

The soft gasp of recognition snatched Shepard from her memories, her eyes snapping to the pale face and trembling form of a middle-aged, batarian female. The expression on the woman’s face left not one shred of doubt in Shepard’s mind or sinking heart that they had come face to face with Lenka’s biological mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read Mass Effect - Mercy, it is the tale of when Lenka left the Mother House to enter the big, wide galaxy. It is a dark tale that introduces you to Aidan, Da'lat, and even Thirty-Seven for the first time.


	17. The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Garrus have freed the slaves. What comes next is the hard part.

**August 16, 2188**

"Mother Da'lat!" Lenka bolted across the floor, sliding to a stop in front of the batarian, her bright, effervescent bearing collapsing into sudden shyness. When she spoke, her voice came out tiny and laden with guilt. "I'm sorry, Mother Da'lat, I disobeyed you."

Shepard took a step forward, the pain in Lenka's voice lodging in her guts, a hook that yanked at her, demanding she do whatever it took to ease her child's suffering. Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to stay back, to allow the reunion to play out without her interference. Oh, but damn, she wanted to interfere. The urge to let out a primal scream of 'mine' and launch herself between them clawed at her. She'd just gotten Lenka back. She forced the rest of that thought out of her head. As much as she loved the little girl … no, because of how much she loved Lenka and how much it had killed her to lose her … she knew she had no right to keep them apart.

The batarian woman knelt, her movements ginger, as if she nursed injuries. Sitting on her heels, the female rested her palms on her knees, her face impassive even though her eyes shone with joy. "And what did you do to disobey it, sweet girl?"

Lenka looked down, staring at her feet as she replied, "You told me to never think about the mother house again if I found a found a different life." Lenka shuffled a little from foot to foot. "But I did." The beautiful, bright smile returning, lighting up her little face as she turned to gesture toward Shepard. "My mommy and daddy brought me back to stop the Master and Mistress."

The batarian mother laughed, the sparkle in her eyes breaking loose in a wide smile. She scooped Lenka up into a tight hug and nuzzled her cheek. "You thought it would be angry with you for coming back?" She rubbed her brow against the child's. "Silly child. You've freed us all. It's not going to be angry, it's going to hug you and cover you with kisses." After a moment of doing just that, Da'lat looked up at Shepard, her smile softening. "Is that your mommy?" she asked, nodding toward the admiral.

"Yes." Lenka pulled away and ran back, both hands reaching out to snag one of Shepard's between them. "Come and meet Mother Da'lat," she said, her words having to squeeze between excited giggles. "She looked after me before the Master took me away.

Shepard allowed the child to pull her across the floor, no idea what to say to a woman who had born at least this one child, and been forced to lose her to the cruelties of fate. In the end, she merely reached out to take Da'lat's hand, a gesture of solidarity perhaps, and said, "Hello. Admiral Jane Shepard-Vakarian."

Da'lat squeezed Shepard's fingers. "It's … I'm … ." A sobbing, relieved sigh followed the use of the first person pronoun. "I'm so very pleased to meet you, Admiral. Very pleased indeed." A wide, toothy smile transformed the weary cast to the woman's features, her black eyes glassy.

Shepard smiled. "And I—"

"Lenka?" another voice, that one human, called from a door on the back wall. A thin, taut-looking woman laughed and crouched down, her arms held out. "My goodness, if you aren't one of the most beautiful sights God ever placed in this galaxy."

"Mother Lucy!" Lenka shrieked and raced across the few metres to throw herself into the woman's arms. "Guess what? Mercy found me. Up there in the black, Mercy brought my mommy and daddy to find me."

"Well glory hallelujah, for that!" The woman's dark, lank hair fell like a curtain over her face as she scooped Lenka up in her arms and twirled her around. "The baby Jesus was right there by your side the whole time." She set Lenka down, then looked up at Shepard, her smile turning to surprise, and then delight. "Commander Shepard!" She chuckled. "Well, it guesses it doesn't have to ask what happened to the new master and mistress."

Shepard shook her head. "They're in custody for transfer back to Palaven." She looked around, the enormity of the task ahead suddenly registering. "I didn't think much past taking them down." She blinked a couple of times at that. The fate of hundreds of people relied on her next few decisions. So … .

"First things first, I suppose. We'll let everyone know that they are now officially free citizens and get them started about thinking what they want to do." She looked back to Da'lat. "Can we get representatives of the different interests together, get them to spread the word, come up with options?"

Da'lat took a deep breath and looked around, her expression bewildered, as if she'd just realized, as Shepard had, the enormity of what freedom meant on a facility-wide basis. Taking a deep breath, the woman nodded. "Ma … Ma'ral is the head of the domestic slaves. The rest, we'll have to find out. It … " She cleared her throat and straightened a little. "... I don't know who is the head of the male house, but I'm sure it won't take much to find out." She turned to the human mother, who still held Lenka, listening to the child talk at a hundred klicks an hour about her adventures. "Lucy … Lenka, why don't you two get the mothers and littles out into the sun. Just ... if the males are out there, lets keep them separate for now."

Shepard scowled, not liking the sound of needing to keep the women and children away from the men. She waited until Lenka sprinted up the stairs, her shoes smacking against the polished wood with a fat, rubber-sole sound. Once the child disappeared through a door, the admiral asked, "Are the males a danger?"

Da'lat shook her head, but expression looked wary. "Most of them are not, but we've had incidents in the past." Her hands flipped in a helpless little gesture. "Being treated like animals, beaten like animals, bred like animals … ." She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, wringing them a little. "Is it so surprising that people behave like animals?"

Shepard reached out and clasped both of Da'lat's hands in hers. "We'll make sure to have some of our people on hand just in case. If you feel there is a threat, don't hesitate to go to one of my crew." Shepard released her and held out a hand toward the door. "Please, after you."

The two women walked out into the brilliant sunlight, Da'lat hesitant, almost as if she expected to be attacked for being somewhere she shouldn't. Shepard slipped her arm through the batarian's, lending silent support as the mother took her first free steps.

Sol stood a few metres off, wary, her hand resting near, but not on her sidearm. The Marines stood just inside the gate, watchful but relaxed. A soft smile tugged at Shepard's lips as she heard Garrus and Adrien talking about something out in the garden.

As she and Da'lat wandered down the length of the lawn, the dread she'd felt upon seeing the way the batarian looked at Lenka, returned. As much as she didn't want the answer … as much as they'd just met and had no history of trust … and much as she didn't want to put Da'lat on the spot, Shepard had to ask, "She's yours, isn't she?"

Da'lat stopped and faced Shepard, but before she could answer, Lenka and a small herd of children poured through the door, racing out onto the grass, hooting and screaming.

"Mommy! Most of the littles remember me!" Lenka ran up to Shepard and threw her arms around the admiral's waist. Staring up into Shepard's face, her smile and eyes outshining the sun, she said, "Some of them weren't here when I left with the master, but the rest remember me."

Crouching, Shepard wrapped her arms around her daughter, hugging her in an almost desperate grip. "That's wonderful, baby. Do you think they'd like to learn some games?"

Lenka nodded against the admiral's neck. "I can show them how to play monster tag." She giggle and pecked Shepard's cheek. "I luv yah."

Shepard pecked her back, struggling to keep the exquisite pain out of her voice as she nuzzled the child's cheek. "I luv yah." She gave the little batarian a gentle swat on the behind. "Go on, teach them to be monsters." Remaining in a crouch, she watched Lenka run back to the nervously milling gaggle of youngsters.

Da'lat shifted a little, drawing Shepard's gaze away from the child. A warm smile greeted her regard, and the batarian mother shook her head. "No, Admiral, she's yours."

§

"Jane?" Adrien's voice came through on Shepard's comms two hours later. "Could I see you in the main house for a moment?"

Shepard turned away from where the different heads of house and enterprise discussed how to spread the word of their new freedom and how to care for the many slaves now entrusted to their stewardship. Shepard had pledged the From Ashes foundation's support and financial assistance, but then stepped back. She didn't belong in those talks. The residents had been subject to others dictating their lives for far too long already.

She walked far enough away to avoid interrupting their conversation and lifted a hand to her ear. "What's going on, Primarch Victus?"

A soft chuff greeted her formality. "Very nice. If you could see your way clear to joining me in the back office upstairs, there's something here I could use your input on." He sounded both flummoxed and nervous, so she set aside her annoyance at his semi-suicidal streak. Dammit, but she'd always have his stupid, spiky, daredevil back.

"I'll be right in, Your most mighty and powerful worshipfulness." She closed the channel halfway through his sputtering, then turned to look for Lenka. She was skipping along beside the younger of the kitchen workers … the name Julia seemed correct … talking at light speed about cake and whether the littles could try some. Shepard was pretty certain Lenka hadn't stopped talking for hours, eager to bring all her friends up to date on the many wonders she'd discovered.

"Adorable cake addict!" she called, lifting a hand to catch the child's attention. "I'm going into the big house. If you need me, have one of the crew radio, okay?" A wide, stupid grin broke over her face. God, she loved having that piece of sunshine back in her sky.

"Okay, Mommy." And off she dashed.

Shepard strode across the large lawn and through the main gate, using the side door to enter the house through the kitchen. The place smelled amazing—onions browning in butter, bacon … damn that was bacon, peanut butter cookies … and apple pie. She grinned as her stomach let out a ferocious howl. "Getting hungry are you?" she whispered softly, pressing her hand against her belly. "Okay, we'll get something to eat when I'm done here."

As she moved down hallways, the soles of her boots echoing off the bare marble, a perplexed scowl drew creases across her forehead and in the corners of her eyes, pulling her brows low over her eyes. At some point not too long before, the estate would have been considered palatial. No one used that much marble unless they littered it with art and the other trappings of wealth. Glancing through the door to the now empty lounge where they'd discovered the carnal slaves, she shook her head, the incongruity digging dull fingernails into her guts. Nothing here made sense … not for Balak. The original owner, sure … he liked his opulence and treasures, his cliche slave girls. He fit. Balak … no, Balak didn't fit.

She found Adrien in the back office, crouching next to a dome-covered display. In the time it took her to cross the broad expanse of hardwood, his hand lifted and lowered a half dozen times as if whatever lay beneath that cover insisted that he remove it. She grinned as his equally strong caution instinct smacked those curious talons down nearly as fast as they rose. Inside the  _torin_ , lived an eight-cycle-old child who just refused to be ignored or bullied into growing up. Even though she suspected that it had always been the case, Pertexa's aftermath had set that child loose.

For a moment, she envied Terion on behalf of her children, but then pushed that thought away, guilt chasing it from her heart. Comparing Garrus and Adrien was the last thing her marriage needed. Garrus would find his way through the darkness as well, and be the father his children needed. He would.

"You know, I can see the exact sort of  _perir_  you were," she said, keeping her voice soft to avoid startling him from his fascinated trance.

Adrien laughed and pivoted on his talons to watch her approach. His amber eyes sparkled … actually sparkled, his grin infectious. "It's like it's calling to me, asking me to pick it up."

"Which means … don't!" She chuckled and crouched at his side. Squinting, she leaned in, peering through the clear cover. Under the dome, a small mechanism whirred. At least a hundred gears, each looking as though it had been carved from faceted crystal or diamond, spun in perfect sync, driving something hidden within. "What am I looking at?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but … ." Another shrug and that slight snap and flutter of his mandibles that signalled bewilderment and wonder. "I've never seen anything like it." He glanced her way. "Have you?"

Shepard shook her head and brought up her omnitool, opening her scanner. "It seems to be some sort of generator, but mechanical?" She tried to scan the little device, but the dome just bounced it back. "Hmm, this isn't glass, it's blocking my scans." A thoughtful scowl drew her brows down tight over her eyes. "It doesn't look dangerous." Curiosity nudged her caution aside, but she stopped her hand halfway to lifting off the lid, and glanced over at the primarch. "You want to do the honours? It could be dangerous."

"I thought I wasn't allowed to do anything dangerous." He bumped her with his shoulder, but then his mandibles dropped and fluttered sheepishly. "But I don't think it's going to do anything." A wide grin followed on the heels of his declaration. "And, yes, of course I do."

Laughing, she let her hand fall back to her lap. For what it was worth, she agreed with him. The machine didn't appear to be emitting any energy or radiation, but more than that, it just felt safe. "Go for it, Primarch."

She leaned closer as he lifted the dome clear and set it aside. "It almost looks like the Antikythera mechanism," she whispered, staring into the tightly packed gears … hundreds of them all working in perfectly timed unison, even though the largest of them was the size of the nail on her index finger, and the smallest looked like a glint of spiralling light. The whole device would have fit in the palm of her hand. How and why had someone gone through so much effort to create such a meticulous and bizarre device?

"The what mechanism?" he asked without taking his eyes off it. She'd never seen him so animated, his face alight and eager, his brow plates shifting constantly, mandibles high and tight with excitement. The entire  _torin_  hummed with energy.

"The Antikythera mechanism," she repeated, "one of the great mysteries of Earth's ancient past. It was a device made up of at least thirty meshing gears that was discovered in a shipwreck off the coast of Greece." A rapt smile spread across her face. "It was an ancient analogue computer for making astronomical calculations as near as anyone has been able to figure. A technology a thousand years ahead of its time." She reached out, allowing her delight in the mystery to overwhelm her caution.

A delicate, careful touch brushed along its bottom edge. "Oh my god," she whispered. "It's suspended there. Nothing's holding it."

Victus looked under the table. "It's not an antigrav stand." His voice trailed off at the end. "How is it doing that?" He leaned in and brought up his omnitool.

Shepard slipped her fingertips along one of the sides, her skin tingling but not with the sort caused by a machine vibrating as it worked. It felt like the sensation right before getting a static shock off something. "It feels like it's carrying a charge." She brought up her omnitool again and tried scanning it. "Oh … wow," she said, her voice coming out in an almost superstitious whisper. "Look at this, Adrien."

He leaned in to look at the readout. "It's producing almost no heat, but … ." He tilted his head. "... what's there is uniform?" A shrug preceded a quick glance over at her. "You're the engineer. Wouldn't you expect the heat to be localized to friction zones rather than completely uniform?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah, the scan says that it's creating no friction." Letting out a small, overwhelmed and confused chuckle, she tweaked the scanner. "That can't be right. No friction means it's not obeying the physical rules of our galaxy." Shooting an infinitesimal, high-powered laser at it, she tried to run a compositional analysis, but the readings came back just as impossible as the rest. She cocked an eyebrow and pointed out the result. "Okay, this is just plain weird. The analysis says that it is pure, crystallized carbon."

"Diamonds?" Adrien's stare never left the mechanism.

Shaking her head, the mysteries starting to pile up a little too deeply for her liking, Shepard changed to another scan. "Well, we were right. It's holding itself there. It's creating a directed and balanced anti-gravity field." She reached out again, wanting to place her hand under it, to test whether or not she could feel a force. If she didn't, the implications made the little machine possibly the most significant human scientific discovery since the prothean archives on Mars.

"I'm going to put my hand under it," she said, her voice soft. She looked over at Adrien, halting her hand just before . "Maybe you'd better back up a little, Primarch. Who knows what this thing is supposed to do."

"Do you think it's a primarch assassination device?" he asked without moving, a wide grin answering her glare.

"Fine, on your head be th—" The little device tipped over and dropped into her hand. Shepard jumped, nearly throwing it against the wall out of sheer reflex. "What the … ?" Juggling it a little to get it balanced in her palm, she lifted it up. Some of the gears continued to spin while others slowed or even changed direction. Shepard hummed a little. "It's warm, and it tingles." She laughed, feeling giddy, euphoric.

He shook his head and backed up a little, the animation draining from his features. "How and why did it fall into your hand like that?" A scowl drew his brow plates low over his nose.

"I don't know." She turned a little to look at him. Confusion butted up against the heady excitement pumping through her veins. "What's wrong? You were excited about it a second ago."

He stood and backed away a couple of steps, then a couple more. "I'm still excited about it, but it waited until your hand was in range." As he did, the scowl eased into a perplexed frown. "Jane, put it on the stand and back away from it."

Shepard's brows knit together, annoyance pricking at her. Why was he acting so squirrelly? "No, why?" She lifted the device, looking at it from all angles. "I don't think it's dangerous, and don't be silly, it wasn't waiting for me to catch it. It's a machine." She didn't want to put it down; she wasn't finished looking at it. In fact, she needed to take it back to the  _Normandy_. Something so unique needed to be studied. It certainly didn't belong under glass in some slaver den.

"Jane, please, trust me for a second. Just set it down." He backed up even further. "I want to test something."

"Adrien, you're being crazy." She stood, pulling the precious find in close and wrapping her other hand around it. "We can take it aboard the  _Normandy_  and check it out. It doesn't belong here."

Footsteps rang in the corridor. "Shepard? You in here somewhere?"

She turned toward Garrus's voice. "In here. Wait until you see what we found. It's amazing." Her eyes slid back to the mechanism. As soon as she focused back on the whirling gears, her annoyance bled away, replaced by the giddiness of discovery.

She got two thumping steps worth of warning before Adrien slammed into her. Spinning to meet him, she grabbed onto his armour, struggling to stay on her feet. He slapped her hand from underneath, launching the little machine across the room.

"Victus!" Garrus roared from the door. Pure fury, Shepard's mate hurled himself at the primarch, stopping just short of ripping into the smaller  _torin_. "You'd better have just suffered some sort of seizure."

The rage in Garrus's voice yanked Shepard from the warm depths of scientific bliss into frozen air. One second numb joy, the next … stark terror, and she flung herself between the two  _torins_. She grabbed Garrus's arm, tearing him away from Adrien before he got a chance to use his curled and poised talons to shred.

"Hey, it's okay, big guy. I know what he was doing. I'm okay. He wasn't trying to hurt me." Gripping her husband, she turned him toward where the little device lay on the floor. "Look at what the primarch found," she said, desperately trying to distract him.

Victus edged around Garrus without turning his back to Shepard's enraged mate. "Sorry, Shepard. I just needed to get it away from you."

She reached out and squeezed his talons, warmth smoothing over the momentary annoyance … at least until she heard the growl rolling through Garrus's subvocals. She released the primarch and took Garrus's hand in a tight grip. "It's okay, Adrien. I understand." Leading Garrus away from the other  _torin,_  she gestured toward the little machine. "I think this device is alive, Garrus. I think it was trying to communicate with us."

Three or so metres away, she crouched, pulling her still-rumbling mate down next to her. "Isn't it amazing? It's a machine and appears to be able to control gravity." She looked into his eyes, her free hand lifting to turn his face away from Victus, forcing him to focus on her. "Here's the cool part; I'm sure it's alive." A wide smile brightened her face.

The primarch's voice came out soft, but rumbling with a combination of awe and distress as he said, "I felt absolute joy … intense relief when I got close, and it grew stronger when I thought about touching it. But then, as soon as you touched it, the feeling disappeared."

Shepard nodded, but continued to hold Garrus's stare. "It focused on me because I reached out. I don't think it's harmful, though. It didn't feel invasive like indoctrination or anything … more like it was trying to speak to me." As she said the words, she knew them to be true. Whatever or whomever it was, it had just been trying to communicate. She'd felt indoctrination … she knew indoctrination inside out, and it hadn't been trying to control her. Influence her, certainly, but not control.

Garrus pulled away from her, tugging against her grip, the rumble deepening. Even in the gloomy half-light in the room, she could barely see his pupils. Damn it. The threat to her must have triggered his PTSD. She hummed softly, keeping it barely audible. Her mother's song seemed to help anchor him and pull him back when it got bad.

Her mate's distress shoved aside all the new life form's intriguing possibilities. Discovering the little mechanism's mysteries could wait. The storm crouched next to her could not. She smiled sadly and reached out to lay her hand against Garrus's cheek, the smile melting into a sad grimace when he jerked away from her touch.

"Garrus? Love, listen to me. I'm okay." As she spoke, Garrus's anger didn't dissipate, in fact, it appeared to intensify. She needed to get Adrien out of there and defuse her husband before Garrus acted on whatever he was seeing in his head.

She glanced over at the primarch. "Primarch Victus, please put the object back its case and take it to my quarters on the  _Normandy_. We can investigate it more fully later."

He nodded and straightened, hurrying over to pick it up. Sending him mute thanks for realizing the situation and remaining silent, she turned back to Garrus.

Shepard shifted from one knee to the other, waiting until Adrien had shut the door behind him before she let out a long sigh and pressed her lips together in a thin, worried line. "What's going on, love?"

The  _torin_  stared into her eyes for long seconds before his mandibles spread and lifted, his entire body bracing for confrontation. Letting out a low, dangerous rumble, he repled, "What's going on? He struck my pregnant mate and then you stepped in on his side."

Shepard shuffled a little closer and held out a hand, not closing to touch him but rather leaving it to him to decide whether or not to touch her. "I know, but I couldn't let you hurt him, Garrus. He's the primarch, but more importantly, he's our friend. He was trying to help me, not hurt me." She blinked back the nettles stinging the corner of her eyes and the back of her throat. "This is more than Adrien smacking the mechanism out of my hand. Talk to me."

He shook his head. "Not here. Not like this." Shoving himself to his feet, he turned to walk away, but then stopped and spun back around.

Shepard remained crouched, waiting for … something. Ice flushed through her as she realized husband had vacated the body in front of her, his place taken by a stranger. All of her mate's warmth, the gentleness and care, had been replaced by stone. Reaction, anger, fear … a very real potential for violence … the Garrus before her right then terrified her, and damn, she hated that. Sluggish heart thumping in her throat, she prayed for her husband's return. Holding his gaze and keeping her breathing slow and far calmer than she felt, she waited.

"I'm losing you," Garrus whispered, his brow plates and mandibles lowering into an expression of such misery that it grabbed her by the guts and yanked her off the floor.

"Never." She stepped into him, taking his face between her hands. She met his rigid stiffness with softness and warmth, willing her love to penetrate the cold shell of ice in his stare. "Never." Her brows knitted together as she shook her head. "But I'm terrified that you're losing yourself." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him into her. "It's okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Pressing her face against the pulse beating hard and fast in his throat, she continued the humming, her hands caressing his neck until he began to relax in her embrace, his hands lifting to her waist, then slipping around her.

Shepard let out a soft sigh. "There we go." Still, she didn't release him. "You're okay, big guy. You're never going to lose me, I promise you that," she said, her tone soothing. "We've just got started on this whole happy ending thing." Pulling back, she caressed his face, the tension draining from her muscles as he leaned into the contact that time.

Leaning up to kiss him, she whispered against his mouth, "Gira once told me that all bonded couples go through rough years and good years. We've had a hell of a run of rough ones, but we're still here, Garrus … still together." She pulled back, her thumbs stroking the hard ridges of his cheekbones. "We're headed for a lot more rocky road, but at the end of it, we'll still be right here. We'll still have our arms around one another, still holding tight." A slow tear crept from the corner of her eye. "Trust that."

With a shudder that felt as though it should shatter every cell in his body, Garrus finally settled into her embrace. As she stared into the pale blue depths of his eyes, she saw his lizard-brain step back, letting reason and warmth reign once more. He took a long, shaky breath in and looked around, then pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.

He nuzzled the tear as it started down her cheek. "Spirits, Shepard, I'm sorry." His whisper came out shaky and flat.

She turned her face into the warmth of his hide. "It's okay. I've got you."

He pulled away, his long fingers gripping her shoulders for a second before moving to cup her jaw. "I saw Adrien run at you and … ." He just trailed off, his gaze trying to see back rather than looking at her.

She nodded and wrapped her arm around him. "Yeah, that amazing, protective instinct of yours saw a threat to your wife and clicked into overdrive." Nodding toward the door, she took a step that direction. "Come on, let's get out of this marble tomb and back out into the sun."

He followed, pressed heavily into her side, his arm wrapped around her like an iron band. As they stepped out the door, another long trembling breath escaped him. Stopping, he turned his face toward the sun as if letting it burn away the lingering traces of the nightmare.

"Jane?" Adrien's voice came through her radio. "The artifact is secure in your quarters. I'm going to stay aboard the  _Normandy_. How's Garrus?"

She reached up and sent a double chirp back.

"Understood," the primarch replied. "I'll check in later."

When the channel closed, she looked up to see Garrus watching her. He shook his head a little before he asked, "Adrien?" Not giving her time to answer, he reached up, cupping his hand around her neck. "And you were afraid to talk to him in case it set me off again?"

"He wanted to make sure you were okay." Shepard gripped his wrist. "I just wanted to give you time to reorient." Glancing over her shoulder toward the large gathering on the lawns outside the Mother House, she smiled. The mood had become festive very quickly. A large bonfire roared between the house and the gate, a long line of tables stood guard, ready for a celebratory feast.

The bright gold flames drew her into their gravity well. Slipping her hands up to lace her fingers into Garrus's, she tugged him toward the fire. "Come on. Come sit with me, hold your daughter in your lap, and just breathe for a bit."

He shook his head and pulled back. "I was coming to tell you that the rest of the representatives will be returning once they get the mines and processing plant shut down. We need to … ."

"No." Shepard pressed two fingertips against his mouth. "I know that you just want to work and forget anything happened, but I'm not going to let you get away with that this time." Dropping the fingers to his chin, she lifted up onto her toes and kissed him. "You're going to be okay. And, we're going to be here for a few days. The work will get done. Let's give these people a chance to come up for air, and figure out how they want to move forward. Nothing eases that process better than a party."

She kissed him again. "Come on." Walking backwards, she pulled him along behind her, a warm, loving smile answering his reluctance. "Come, husband. Nothing is more important right now than you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is, at long last. Been working on it, but I took on way too many projects with doing art and story for the Dragon Age Big Bang, and a story for the Mass Effect Big Bang. Thanks to everyone still reading. :)


	18. Mass Effect - The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus watched his primarch, awed and grateful. His people truly couldn't have asked for a better torin to lead them through recovery. As a general, Victus's tactical genius and ability to inspire loyalty set him apart. During the war, they made him vital. As a primarch, those qualities only became more striking as they combined with his compassion. Watching his primarch … his friend ... Garrus felt a greasy hand creep beneath his admiration.

**§§§ -** Denotes possible triggering material for non-specific mention of torture. Both the beginning and end of the section is tagged thusly.

**Netichik:**  Insect analogues native to Palven that have been exported to many colony worlds. About two centimetres long, they live in colonies burrowed into trees. Meat eaters, they drop out of trees in large masses onto the backs of animals passing beneath their nests.

**Preteril**  - A small, spiny ground burrowing marsupial analogue found in high meadow and forest lands.

**August 16, 2188**

Garrus watched Lenka run in the gate, racing toward where Shepard sat next to the fire. As his child climbed into Shepard's lap, he turned to Da'lat. An understanding, if sad, smile greeted the way the batarian mother watched the child. "Thank you for loving her and caring for her while she was here," he said, feeling wrong about saying it, even though the emotion behind it was genuine.

Da'lat let out a sound that was half sigh, half sob. "Thank you for finding my child and caring for her. I never thought to lay eyes on her again."

Garrus frowned, his mandibles dropping. "You're her mother? You gave birth to her?" As soon as he asked, he regretted voicing his surprise. She didn't need to have him highlight her loss. His talons lifted to rub the back of his neck, then tug at the collar of his armour. Horror slithered through him as black and cold as a marauder's shadow. He couldn't imagine having to bring his child into such conditions, raise her to be a slave, then turn her over to the beasts to use however they saw fit.

Da'lat nodded slowly, her dark eyes riveted on his family. "I did. My only child to survive."

"Does she know?" Garrus turned to face the batarian, pulling away from her even as he did. As if distance could cushion incoming blows. He glanced over toward the fire where Shepard sat in a fold out chair, both of their daughters tucked into her lap. His mate rocked back and forth a little as Mercy slept and Lenka chattered and giggled. Love and devotion, as terrifying as they were powerful, poured through him. "I couldn't … ." The words died in his throat. As much empathy as he felt for the former slave, he didn't want to give her any ideas. Spirits, that felt selfish, and it was, but if Shepard lost Lenka again … . Hell, he couldn't lose her either.

"She doesn't know. It is no kindness to foster attachments in a place like this." Da'lat closed her eyes and turned her face to the setting sun. "I was born free, raised by loving parents, became an actress when I was old enough, believe it or not." She smiled, a wistful smile of remembering a life so far removed as to be imagination. He wasn't sure he'd ever witnessed anything lonelier. After a small shrug, as if to dismiss the importance or beauty of her early life, she continued, "The master's father abducted me when I was in my early thirties. His thugs snatched me off the street on my way home from the set of a vid. He brought me here because his son had seen my vids and wished to possess me."

Frozen thistles of laughter cut from her throat. "I should be honoured, he told me … to be so desired. I was not." A sharp pause marked the end of that thought as she turned to look at the fire. "I'm not sure that man ever loved anything other than money and power, but I believe that in those first cycles, he came as close to loving me as he could. All his carnals are spayed to prevent pregnancy." She let out a disgusted cough. "Spayed, like varren."

Lenka wriggled out of Shepard's lap and ran to the gate, opening it wide to allow one of the former kitchen slaves to maneuver a huge tray of cookies through the opening. A pack of children descended, leaping at the tray and tugging at her clothing. Letting out a surprised yelp, the baker held the tray above her head, wading through the heavy seas of excited pleading.

Da'lat's voice continued, a soft murmur brushing against the edges of his perception. "He never subjected me to the procedure, and as I warmed his bed each night, I eventually became pregnant. Five months after he sent me to the mother house, Lenka arrived." She held out a hand, inviting Garrus to accompany her to where the children now sat in a cluster near the fire, each wriggling with excitement as Julia and Lenka passed out the baked treasures.

"Being freeborn," Da'lat continued, "I knew how badly attachments hurt. If you never attach, never love … . Well, it seemed kinder to remain as aloof as I could and save her that suffering."

As the words appeared in his mind, Garrus winced, dying a little inside. Still, he said them. "There's nothing stopping you from being a mother to her now."

Da'lat smiled. "No, Hierarch. I … well, she deserves better. She's bright and kind with a spirit that would die slowly if she remained tied to me and this place." A faint nod directed his attention back to where Lenka was passing Shepard a cookie. After his mate took it, the pair engaged in one of their 'I luv yah' battles. "The fear in your mate's eyes when she met me, knowing who I was … . I would not make that fear a reality." Warm, strong fingers gripped his talons for a couple of seconds, the gesture settling his fear. "You, Admiral Shepard, and the little one are her family now, and I'm glad for you all to see such love between you."

The batarian let out a long sigh as she looked toward the big house. "A lot of these people have nowhere to go. What families and homes they had once, are lost. So, I'll continue as I have. I plan to turn the big house into a proper place to live, raise these little ones free, let the adults find meaning in building lives, give the elders a comfortable retirement. They all deserve it."

Garrus nodded and looked around. "No people have ever deserved it more." Now that the initial shock and jubilation had worn off, most of the ex-slaves just looked exhausted and lost. His heart went out to them. A lot of them had been born and raised there, never knowing life outside the fences and mine shafts. Judging by the waxen skin, hanging mandibles, and trembling limbs, most of them found the prospect of freedom more frightening than being a slave.

"Daddy! Da'lat!" Lenka raced across the lawn and threw her arms around Garrus. "Most of the little ones remember me."

Da'lat caressed the child's face, slipping a single finger over Lenka's cheek, her smile kind while his daughter beamed. "You took good care of them, always kind and patient."

Lenka looked into his face, radiating pure joy as she held her arms up for him to lift her, which he did, letting out an exaggerated groan.

"You're getting too big to haul up here," he said and chuckled, his mandibles flicking in a teasing smile. "You're going to have to start picking me up and carrying me around." When she giggled, he nuzzled her cheek. "What were my ladies talking about over there?" He looked over at Shepard, his heart stopping dead behind his keel as he saw Adrien bent over, speaking into her ear. She responded with an official sort of nod and turned immediately to speak to someone sitting in his seat … apparently resuming a previous conversation. Just business.

"Daddy?"

He turned back to Lenka and winked at her. "Sorry, Pretty Eyes, I missed that." Guilt slapped him twice over, once for his instant jealousy and then for it distracting him from his daughter. He needed to stop being a complete moron about Adrien before it pulled his family apart.

"Mommy was asking me if I minded going to sleep with Ami Sol and Mercy until later." Her little face scrunched into a very serious frown. "I told her I'd be fine, but she worries." A little shrug emphasized her words and warmed him with an exquisite ache. So beautiful and kind, and so grown up before her time. "She can't help it," Lenka continued. "It's because she loves me."

"More than the moon loves the stars," he agreed. "And so do I." After nuzzling her cheek again, he set her down. "Go have fun with the littles, it'll be time to head up for bed soon." A grin met her groan, but her pout lasted only a second before she sprinted off.

"You have a beautiful family, Hierarch Shepard-Vakarian." Da'lat moved away, walking toward a small group of older slaves. Garrus watched as one of the mothers offered Shepard a small blanket. Smiling, she thanked the black-haired human, and draped it across her lap. A moment later, she'd removed the armour from her torso and arms, then wriggled out of the underlayer, settling a restless Mercy to nurse under the blanket.

As he watched, a part of him burned with the fire that had roared beneath the clear black glass that separated him from the world that afternoon. He did have a beautiful family. Wasn't it him constantly telling Shepard that they could make it through anything as long as they relied on one another? He'd been saying it since Horizon, when he'd watched her fold in on herself as Kaidan walked away. Kaidan, who couldn't even haul his drunken ass up off the couch to go to her memorial. Then, when the miracle they'd been begging the universe to grant them appeared, he'd turned his back and walked away.

Garrus had to admit, he understood Kaidan's doubts. The lieutenant had been out there, helping with the search, slowly losing hope as Shepard's air supply and survivability deadline ran out. S&R became body retrieval, and then not even that. He understood that the process stripped away all of Kaidan's hope, making Shepard's reappearance impossible.

None of that impacted Garrus's experience. He'd been on the Citadel, finishing up his work at C-Sec, getting ready to strike out … finally blaze his own path as a Spectre … or at least try. He'd made arrangements to meet Shepard when she returned to the Citadel. Dinner. He thought maybe, if he played it cool and they managed to become friends … maybe, one day, he'd work up the guts to tell her how he felt.

That ended with Shepard's death. All his drive to become a Spectre, to work alongside Shepard as a partner in the fight … they buried it in that small box within her memorial. What did it all matter? The team scattered. Wrex, Liara, Tali … all gone. Joker kept in touch for a little while, then just vanished. Kaidan wallowed. The Alliance and the council buried everything. No one prepared for the inevitable. So he stayed with C-Sec, hoping that the universe would send him a sign, or the mercy of a bullet.

His sign … . A harsh chuckle rumbled through his second larynx. His sign appeared in the most unlikely form. Who could have ever imagined that the universe would choose Conrad Verner as its messenger? Garrus made a habit of passing by Shepard's memorial plaque on his way to and from work. One day a few months after she died, he saw Shepard's crazy fan standing inside the barricade. He intended to tell Conrad to cross back over, but Udina beat him to it. Within two minutes, Conrad hauled off and laid humanity's councilor out cold.

Knowing what awaited the unfortunate Verner, Garrus grabbed him and dragged him out of the area, putting him on the first ship to Illium. Of course, when evidence of his involvement showed up on surveillance footage, Garrus got the worst and last dressing down of his career. He stepped off a transport onto Omega three days later. His work at C-Sec had revealed the mining station as the source of most smuggling. It proved a perfect fit.

So, yes, he understood Kaidan's doubts, but when he looked down that scope on Omega and saw that familiar emblem on the armour … the gleaming red hair … the freckles and flashing smile … he just knew. Shepard was a miracle … his salvation and a second chance … one he did not intend to waste. So why was he sabotaging it by being so stupid about Adrien? Why couldn't he stop that hook twisting in his gut every time?

Shepard lifted her hand, catching his attention and then beckoning him over. The chair next to her stood vacant, so he made his way around the fire. Hearing Adrien's voice over the general conversation, he looked that way. The primarch moved amongst the people, passing out blankets and food to the older slaves, most of whom had been pulled out of the mines, and none of whom looked at all well. As he worked, Adrien stopped to talk to anyone who called to him, promising people he would sort their paperwork and find placements in the shelters for anyone who wished to return to Palaven. From there, they could go where they wished.

Garrus watched his primarch, awed and grateful. His people truly couldn't have asked for a better  _torin_  to lead them through recovery. As a general, Victus's tactical genius and ability to inspire loyalty set him apart. During the war, they made him vital. As a primarch, those qualities only became more striking as they combined with his compassion. Watching his primarch … his friend ... Garrus felt a greasy hand creep beneath his admiration. It wrapped around his heart, squeezing it until the straining organ threatened to collapse.

Unable to breathe, Garrus wrenched his gaze off Adrien, turning back to Shepard. He crossed the few metres separating them and threw himself into the chair at her side. Wrapping an arm around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder. He filled his lungs with the magic of her warm scent, struggling to silence the voice inside his head and still the trembling in his limbs.

"What is it, love?" Shepard asked, turning to kiss his nose and then rest her temple against his brow. "You're shaking."

He just shook his head and took long, deep breaths, focusing on the heat and pressure of that contact. How could he explain that he'd just realized why he couldn't shake his jealousy … that he wasn't jealous at all, but certain? How could he explain that just a moment or two before he'd realized that eventually his wife and children would leave him, because through and through, Adrien Victus was just the better  _torin_?

Shepard sighed, a gentle sound that told him without words … 'Whatever you need'. Dusting his face with kisses, she whispered, "Okay, as soon as our girl finishes her supper, our day is done, husband." She pressed her lips against his cheekbone, her breath on his hide warm and soothing. "The girls are going to stay with Sol and Kaidan until later. All right?"

He just nodded, needing his mind to go blank and still, his gut to settle, and the feeling to return to his hands and feet. Shepard didn't move, her soft breathing and gentle lips blocking out the rest of the world.

"Just be here, right now, with me," she murmured. "It's a beautiful warm night. Your family is with you." She hummed softly, her mother's hymn lilting as it brushed over him, soft and delicate … butterfly wings of sound. "You're so very loved," she whispered. She folded back the blanket a little to reveal his sleeping daughter. Taking his hand, she tugged off his glove and drew his talons over to press against Mercy's back.

The fleecy heat of his baby's jumper under his hand, the silkiness of her hair … the steady and quick beat of her heart, formed a tether that pulled him back down, calming his fears.

"This is you and me, Garrus," Shepard said. Her words anchored him as she rested her head against his. "No force in the galaxy can take that from you."

Mercy woke up and looked up at him, her beautiful little face frowning at him as if demanding to know why he'd let her sleep while she remained hungry. When he smiled down at her and stroked her hair with a talon, she murmured happily and settled back to nurse. Spirits, she could fill his every empty space with a single smile.

Time stopped as he watched his daughter stretch and nuzzle at his mate's breast. The rest of the universe vanished, as it always did. The night settled heavy and still, the crackle of the fire, the sigh and scent of wind through the trees wrapping everything in calm. When Mercy eventually pulled away, those perfect little lips smacked a couple of times before smiling up at him. Shepard put her clothing in order, then lifted their baby, holding her out to him.

He cuddled Mercy against his shoulder, settling her in against the space where his underlayer showed between armour sections. Nuzzling her delicate little ear, he whispered soft oaths of love and devotion through his second larynx. He loved Shepard … spirits … he loved her with a devotion both terrifying and ferocious, but his children … that love formed an altogether different creature. As he held Mercy in his arms, the history between him and his father became painfully clear. How could anyone feel that much for someone ... what father could stand by and watch his child self-destruct?

"Okay," Sol's voice called, breaking through his thoughts. "Where is she? I need some puala fruit time." Changed into her civvies, Garrus's sister strode toward them, Kaidan walking at her side. "Hand her over, Twig."

Reluctant to let her go, Garrus lifted Mercy away from his shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. "I love you," he whispered next to her ear, cuddling her back in against him. "Sleep well, my beautiful little praela." Still, he didn't let her go, not until he heard Lenka racing up to him, those quick, light footsteps unmistakable.

"Daddy!" She flung her arms around his waist even with his armour in the way.

Garrus nuzzled Mercy one last time, then passed her into Sol's waiting talons, marvelling once again how his baby still fit easily into his hands. Letting out a long, teasing sigh, he turned his attention to Lenka, one brow cocked, eyes narrowed. "What do you want, kid?"

She giggled and squeezed him, her toothy little smile just about breaking his heart as it shone through the mottled bruising. Karin said the discoloration would take time to work out after the trauma and surgeries. Couldn't be gone soon enough for him.

Reaching down, he scooped her up over his arm, holding her gingerly as he dangled her upside down. "What do you want?" he repeated, fighting back laughter as she squealed and giggled.

"Hugs!" Lenka swung, grabbing hold of his armour and using it to climb up to his cowl. "And to stay up late. Can I watch a movie in the lounge?" Her ridiculously exaggerated, pleading grin finally broke his control, and he laughed. "Please?" she wheedled, obviously seeing his laughter as a sign of crumbling resolve.

He eased her back around so that she sat on his hip, then hugged her. "You are impossible," he said, nuzzling the whorls on her brow. "Okay, you can watch a movie suitable for a seven-year-old." As he said the last he levelled a scowl at Sol and Kaidan.

"Hey! Don't look at us, Twig. It's Kenneth and Joker who introduced her to zombies, and you can blame Tali and Gabby for her going around kissing everyone." Sol made a sickened face. "Damned romances are more of a horror than the zombies." Kaidan opened his mouth, but then closed it again when Sol elbowed him. "Not a word you." She grinned and leaned over to nuzzle his cheek.

Garrus shook his head, then glanced to his side when his wife's arm slipped around his waist.

Shepard reached up to tap Lenka's nose, then said, "But you need to wash, brush your teeth, and get your PJ's on first. Deal?"

"Deal." The child kissed Garrus and flung her arms around his neck. "You going to carry me to the shuttle, Daddy?" She planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

Groaning as he returned the kiss, Garrus turned slightly to wrap an arm around Shepard's shoulders. "Only if your mommy carries me." Shock and dismay greeted Lenka's laughter. "What? You think she can't carry both of us?"

"I've carried your daddy," Shepard said, cutting the air with a hand. "He's heavier than he looks." She slapped down any further discussion on the topic with a raised palm. "I'm far too tired to try. Let's just get back to the  _Normandy_." She pressed against Garrus's side, a strong support despite her words.

The three of them sat together, Shepard tucked under Garrus's arm and pressed into his side … Lenka draped across both their laps as she played with Jane, telling the doll all about her day. He and Shepard said nothing, but the silence between them spread heavy and comfortable, presence and proximity all either needed. He loved how completely they'd learned one another over the years. And … moments like that made him feel like an idiot for allowing the voice of his insecurities to override what he should just know was true.

Lenka gave them both final kisses and hugs in the shuttle bay, then bounced all the way to the elevator, filling Sol and Kaidan in on her day. Garrus watched her until the elevator doors closed, then followed Shepard over to their equipment trunks to strip off his armour. After leaving their weapons with Steve, they headed into the elevator, still encapsulated by the weary, quiet. Garrus leaned against the back wall, it had been a long time since he felt as completely wrung out as he did right then. The past eight months had been a living hell, scarring them both … most of the marks slashed across parts that couldn't be seen.

"Did Da'lat tell you about Lenka?" he asked, keeping his voice low and threading a soft sub-layer of support and comfort through it. If Shepard knew, Da'lat must have told her the same thing she'd told him because Shepard didn't seem worried.

Shepard nodded and pressed up against his arm. "Yes. She seems like a very good woman, one that Lenka should maintain a relationship with." A long, musical sigh escaped her lips. "I feel bad that I'm so relieved to be taking her daughter away, but I am."

Garrus glanced at the control as it dinged for the CIC. Almost there. Almost able to just collapse and relax. He didn't know if he had the energy reserves to use their alone time to make love to his mate, but he certainly intended to wrap himself around her and just … .

Shepard stepped up to the door and in a single, smooth motion pulled her uniform up over her head. Heat built under Garrus's plates as his gaze roamed over the ridge of her spine, the long lines of muscle, the sharp angle of her scapulae. She hung her uniform over her arm. He chuffed a little as his heart hammered at the inside of his keel, rethinking his energy level. He'd never looked at another person—female, male, human, turian, asari—and found them as beautiful as his mate.

Without pausing, she slipped off the bra, then unfastened and pushed down her trousers. Despite his response to her revealed form, there was nothing sexy in her movements. She wasn't teasing or taking her time, just stripping down. By the time the elevator dinged for the captain's cabin, she stood completely nude, her clothing all held in one hand. He opened his mouth, questions poking at him,  _netichiks_ nibbling at the back of his neck, but something told him to remain silent. That same something also whispered that she had a purpose and wouldn't share it until they arrived in the cabin anyway.

The elevator door opened, Shepard strode out barefoot, her clothes in hand, and palmed the door, moving quickly but not rushed or frantic. She merely moved with purpose. A soft, loving smile fluttered across his face, and he followed, curious to see what that purpose was.

When he stepped over the threshold, his mate awaited him, clothing discarded over the chair behind the desk, her hands held out to him. His breathing sped up, his lungs pulling in long draughts of ozone and Shepard's sweet scent. Placing his hands in hers, he opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing. Some part of him already knew, a soft keen creeping through his second larynx, a sigh of the same awe and connection he'd felt as they danced the  _cohamentum_  at their wedding.

"Sh," she said, her fingertips pressing against the top plate of his mouth. "We'll talk later." Nimble fingers peeled off his gloves and tossed them over on top of her clothing before moving to the fasteners at the cowl of his light tunic. He closed his eyes, savouring the cool whisper of her fingers against his neck. Her touch skated down the hollow of his throat, pausing to slip under his tunic to tease the sensitive border where his neck lifted into his cowl.

Soft, moist, and hungry, her lips followed her fingers down his neck even as her hands slipped down over his chest and stomach to tug the light material out of his leggings. He bent down so she could lift the tunic over his head, then raised his talons, trickling them through her hair and down over her shoulders.

His wife turned away just long enough to add his shirt to the pile. When he tried to ease her into his arms, wanting to feel her smooth curves against him … her breasts pressed into his chest, she took his hands in hers, lowering them to his sides. Everything about her asked him to wait, to be patient. She needed to show him something first.

Shepard knelt at his feet and laid her hands against his stomach, staring up at him with an expression that said more than any words he could imagine. His pulse thumped hard but steady … settled … where the arteries passed over the front of his cowl.

' _I am yours … this body, this soul … everything I am is yours_.'

A lifetime of promises shone up at him, the silence between them giving birth to something both unimaginably beautiful and sacred. Shepard leaned back a little, sitting on her heels, and placed her hands on her thighs, palms facing up. His heart leaped into his throat, a fist closing around his windpipe as he stared down at her. Did she know what she was doing or was it nothing more than coincidence … a casual posture? Terror raced in hard and fast, tugging him between fear of what it meant if she did understand, and a splinter of hope that slipped between his plates to pierce his heart.

All his questions died when she pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts out, her chin staying raised even though her eyes looked down. Longing, joy, and wonder glowed, shimmering like hot coals as they infused his bones and muscles, spreading into every particle of his being. Spirits, he was mated to the single bravest, most remarkable being in the entire galaxy. She shone like a sun, brilliant and golden. He reached down and ran his talons through her hair, cupping her cheek for a second. Someone so remarkable deserved nothing less than everything. She needed and deserved a mate focused on her and their family rather than constantly stressing her out with his insecurities.

The war was over. Everything he'd wanted over those years had manifested. He just needed to leave it behind. Garrus Vakarian wasn't a renegade warrior any more. His family and his home still needed him to fight, just not with a gun in his hand.

Despite shutting it down almost as quickly as it appeared, he couldn't deny the shadow that passed over him at that thought.

The snap of one of his boot fasteners drew his attention back to his wife as she waited for him to lift his foot. He did so, balancing on one foot then the other as she slipped off the light, flexible boots then moved on to freeing his spur, and sliding his leggings to the floor. When he stood naked before her, his clothes all piled on top of hers, she bent down, her hands pressing to either side of one foot. She kissed the top of his foot where it arched up into his first ankle, then did the same for the other.

Before he could react, she stood and held out a hand.

He slipped his talons into her grip, allowing her to draw him into the shower. She bathed him from head to toe, allowing him to do nothing more than caress her as she worked. As with the elevator and when she undressed him, her actions remained completely chaste, pure caregiving. She dried him with the same care, then led him down to the bed.

"Lie down facing up," she said, her voice barely stirring the air. He did as she said, propping himself up against the head of the bed to watch her retrieve a bottle of oil from her footlocker. Peace settled heavy and warm around them, encapsulating them. Shepard settled between his feet and poured some of the oil into her hands. "I want you to talk to me, Garrus. I won't demand, you know that, but you carry so much. Please, share it with me."

Eyes, so very green, stared into his for long moments. In those moments, they exchanged a promise, an understanding as terrifying to him as it was reassuring. She had placed her life and that of their children in his hands, trusting him to do the best for all of them. That level of trust … of devotion to him … it left him lightheaded … and a little terrified.

He needed to work harder. He needed to do better. And yes, he needed to talk to his wife about the million secrets. Despite his dauntless dedication to ignoring them, all those dark spaces hadn't gone away, they'd just festered.

"I almost never met you." He watched her as she rubbed the oil into his foot and ankle. "I think you've figured this out, but I met Jack before I met you," he said, an old ache clenching his guts in its fists. Chasing Saren had been as much about exacting justice for a friend … for several friends … as anything else.

Shepard nodded, but just worked her way up his leg, her touch easing him into the thin, hard mattress.

"I met Nihlus a decade ago. We ended up investigating the same batarian slaving operation. They ran a brothel, bold as you please, in the lower levels of Kithoi Ward. We went in, found one of the sickest den of horrors you could imagine. We sent all the slaves to hospitals throughout the ward, arrested everyone who worked there … even managed to grab two of the ring's higher ranking leaders.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. As he relaxed, exhaustion crept over him, weighing him down, his limbs loose and heavy. "We were about to clear out when this laundry hamper just sort of exploded. A tiny salarian female burst out of it, and grabbed Nihlus's gun." That night appeared behind his eyelids … the dark, filthy rooms and endless hallways ... the stink in the humid, fetid air … the crying and even screaming from the other side of shut doors … the strange cricket song of their boots on the tacky floors. It had been one of the best and worst days of his life.

Shepard started on his other foot, remaining silent, but when he cracked his eyes, he saw that her gaze returned to watch his face, fully engaged.

"She threatened to shoot us," he said, continuing, "but had no idea how to handle the gun. Accidentally shot one of my squad in the leg. He very nearly took her down, but Nihlus threw himself in front of her. When she saw that suicide by cop had been taken off the table, she turned the gun on herself." He paused, a throaty moan escaping as Shepard began massaging her way up his leg. Damn, absolutely nothing in the entire galaxy felt as good as those cool, soft hands sliding over his hide. "It was a bizarre standoff. I sent everyone else out, then Nihlus distracted her while I worked my way around to where I could grab her. Took an hour before we got ahold of her to take her to a doctor."

**§§§**

He chuckled softly as he remembered wrestling the terrified salarian to the med clinic to get her checked out. It took the both of them to hang onto her. "Salarians are remarkably hard to keep a grip on." He smiled, but then when he remembered what Dr. Michel discovered, the smile died. "Salarians lay clutches of tiny eggs, so it's rare to find them in the sex-trade. They're just not made for it. This female, Grenta, had been captured in a grab on some colony where her parents worked as scientists. Since she wasn't useful in the usual way, she'd been sold to clients with more twisted appetites and … well, sufficient to say that she'd been tortured for years."

**§§§**

A soft, musical murmur of empathy rolled from Shepard's throat as she moved up to his thighs.

"I helped Nihlus take Grenta back to his place. I was suspicious about his intentions, but he reassured me that he just wanted to help her recover, and invited me to come back whenever I wanted to check on her." He sighed, his mandibles slowly spreading and easing back. "I did, and the difference in her over a few weeks amazed me. Nihlus and I talked … he explained what he was doing, then called on me to help when it came time to take Grenta back out into the world." He chuckled again. "Getting her out of that apartment was harder than getting her out of the brothel, but we managed. She's a Spectre now."

"And Jack?" Shepard nudged his legs together, then straddled them as she worked her way up to his torso. Her palms smoothed oil over the plates protecting his groin. As she rubbed in gentle circles, her thumbs pressed in along the seam a little, coaxing a rumbling moan from his throat as the plates loosened and his hips rose up to meet her hands.

_Dear spirits … Jack who?_

Moving on to less distracting parts of his body, Shepard allowed blood flow to return to his brain. What was he talking about? Oh right, almost not meeting Shepard because of Jack.

"Jack told you about crashing the space station into the hanar moon?" His mandibles flicked at her gentle hum of affirmation. "Nihlus was waiting to arrest her when she climbed out. He'd been ordered to transport her directly to the council who intended to ship her off to the freezer section on Purgatory." Garrus let out a long, whispered sigh. "Nihlus saw something in her and gave her another option and took her in, started teaching her how to trust. I spotted for him a couple of times to make sure they were both safe." He looked up to meet Shepard's eyes and smiled. "You should have seen her then. She was a different woman."

Shepard matched his smile. He knew she'd always seen the same thing in Jack that Nihlus did … a basic goodness and a yearning to trust and have that trust rewarded. Still, she said nothing, just oiling up her hands and then taking one of his between them.

"He did this exercise which is supposed to be about acknowledging your limits and admitting when you've had enough," he said. Lifting his free hand, he caressed the length of her arm, closing his eyes to savour the smooth silkiness of her skin. "At first I thought Jack was just being stubborn, refusing to admit that she'd reached her limit. It went on for hours, until Jack was hallucinating and Nihlus was falling down from exhaustion. He collapsed and Chloe Michel tried to get him to stop, but he said he couldn't … that whatever Jack went through, he needed to endure as well. That if she died, his body would land next to hers." His throat tightened with the odd combination of fear, dread, and awe he'd felt that day.

"In fact, Jack wasn't being stubborn at all, she was reaching for something … memories … her identity before Cerberus got their hands on her. By the time she found it, Nihlus had fallen beside her, unable to stand … somehow they found this peace between them. As terrified as I was for both of them-keeping one eye on Chloe the whole time to see if she wanted me to stop it-it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed." Shoulders popping in a small shrug, he reached up to cup his wife's cheek in his palm. "They fell in love in that place that existed just between them."

She took his hand between hers and began working her way up that arm.

"I'd never seen people drive themselves like that … Jack for herself and Nihlus for her. It created this longing in me, to have someone look at me with the devotion and trust that radiated from Jack when she looked at her master." He shook his head, worried she might misunderstand what he meant. "Not because I wanted someone to kneel before me, to call me that, but because I saw ordinary relationships every day … some good, some bad … but I had never seen that sort of depth or beauty between two people before." He pulled back as she leaned in to oil the back of his neck, meeting her gaze.

She smiled. "I understand." Working the oil into his fringe, she pressed against him, the slight, soft curve of her belly molding itself to his stomach, her breasts a delicious contrast of soft flesh and tight nipples as they moved against his plates. Her fingers moved to his face, saying so much through that touch … through the thumbs that brushed over his cheekbones and brow plates, the calloused palms.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into her, absolutely nothing existing outside the two of them.

Then she pressed her lips against his mouth, and whispered, "Roll over."

Even though he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood, he shook his head. "I want to hold you." He threw back the blankets and climbed beneath them, then held out his arm, needing to tuck his wife in against his side, to just hold her and breathe her in.

After a moment, Shepard got up and set the oil in the night stand, then and climbed in next to him. She snuggled in against the right side of his chest and rested her brow against his temple. Her warm breath on his hide calmed the nest of  _preteril_  squirming around in his guts.

He took a deep breath. "When I got word about Eden Prime, I ran over to Nihlus's apartment as fast as I could, but Grenta had gotten there first, and Jack had disappeared." The old pain … grief for a fallen friend and empathy for what Jack must have suffered … roared, battering him with its storm-tossed waves.

If he'd gotten to Jack in time … . The possibilities of that small alteration in his life played out behind closed eyes. He wouldn't have been able to leave Jack so few days after Nihlus's death. He never would have joined up with Shepard. He probably would have applied to the Spectres when C-Sec smothered him or he got fired. He might not even have believed the crazy story the human Spectre spread about Reapers.

"I almost never met you," he whispered. "If I'd gotten to Nihlus's apartment before Grenta … ."

As much pain and suffering he'd faced over the years spent at Shepard's side, that other life … even if it didn't just lead to death … that other life looked bleak and lonely. In the end, Nihlus had entered his life to be a guide … to lead him to that very night … to the trust his wife had placed at his feet as she offered herself to him in the most profound way possible.

Shepard kissed his mandible and tucked her head under his jaw. "With everything I am, Garrus," she whispered. After a second she pulled away just far enough to look into his eyes, and he knew she spoke an oath as binding as the vows she'd made on their wedding day. "You understand that, right? That there isn't a single measure of me that doesn't belong to you and our children."

When he nodded, she mirrored it then took his hand and pressed it against her stomach. "I think we both know how hard the next half year is going to be. I might lose, but I'm in this fight until the end, and I need you there, fighting alongside me." Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his mouth. "I need you, Garrus.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, Turning toward her, he wrapped her in his arms and settled down onto the pillows. "I'll honour what you've given me, and I promise you … I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-N: Garrus came to me over a year ago now with his plan for the second arc of the story. And yes, he actually did. He woke me up one morning and said, 'This is what I want. I don't want to be the perfect friend, husband, and father. That's boring and I've carried that mantle for years. I want the years and stress and the reality of leaving everything I know and am behind to manifest in real and sometimes unpleasant ways."
> 
> So, as I plan and Garrus develops through this act of the story, I am very much using the experiences and wisdom of real life heroes … our men and women in uniform … our veterans who work very hard to leave the war behind every day … as my guidepost. I will be posting excerpts in these A-N's as I go. They are from different sources. This one is from an online article called 10 Things your Combat Vet Wants you to Know.
> 
> Number 6 and part of number 3 on that list pertain to last chapter, but I want to share them: 6. He's had to cultivate explosive anger in order to survive in combat. 3. A warrior has to be able to respond to threat with minimal time pondering choices. While this is life-saving in combat, it is not helpful in the much slower-paced civilian world. A better rule in the civilian world would be to give a reaction proportionate to the provocation. Small provocation, small response (but this could get you killed on the battlefield). When the training becomes second nature, a warrior might take any adrenaline rush as a cue to "apply maximum firepower."
> 
> This is number 2 on that list: 2. Living for you is harder. It would be easy for him to die for you because he loves you. Living for you, which is what you actually want, is harder for him. It is even harder for him if you are smart and do not need him to rescue you, since rescuing is something he does really well. If you are very competent at many things, he may at times question if you need him at all. He may not see that you stay with him as a conscious choice.
> 
> It hails from the battlebuddy page on facebook. By the way, Battle Buddies is a service that matches service dogs with veterans suffering from PTSD. Such a fantastic thing.


	19. The Internal Machinations of Shooting Stars Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on, give it to me." Shepard took a long breath. "No one warns you that things are going to be quite as complicated as they are when you fall in love with a member of another species. So, lay it out. Informed is better than not."

**August 17, 2188**

Shepard slumped into the chair next to Karin's desk. "I don't know what to do when Garrus has these flashes." She drew in a deep breath. "Sometimes they are straight up flashbacks. He thinks that we're back in the war, or he's on Omega. But sometimes, it's more like he just disappears and there is nothing there but rage and instinct. Adrien slapped something out of my hand yesterday, and I thought for a few minutes that Garrus was going to attack him."

"Did you have the primarch leave the room?" When Shepard nodded, the doctor mirrored it. "Did that break the spell?"

Shepard shook her head, an echo of the fear she'd felt facing that blank fury burying slivers in her heart. "No. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn on me. His anger … I've never seen Garrus angry like that, and we've had some wicked arguments." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped, and looked up at the doctor. Damn, she hated talking about Garrus. He was so private. Ever since they picked Garrus up on Omega, she'd respected his privacy and allowed him to deal with his issues how he felt necessary, but the time for that had passed. Long passed, if truth be told. She'd let him struggle alone under the guise of respect for far too long, and she really needed help.

"I guess," she said at last, "the difference is that before, he was always there, engaged with me." A small cough punctuated the memory of the fight before investigating the shed on Pertexa. "Yesterday, he was blank. My husband vanished. He knew who I was, and he had some connection to his emotions … at one point he said he was losing me, so there was something going on there, but … ." She shook her head again.

Karin reached out and laid a hand over Shepard's laced fingers. "Garrus has experienced four or five of the hardest years anyone can imagine. He's lost you three times, twice to death. He lost his squad. He lost his mother to a terrifying disease." The doctor's voice pitched low and compassionate, the tone of a old friend rather than the professional. "He fought a war on two fronts, both on the  _Normandy_  and advising Victus."

Shepard nodded, looking down at their hands. "And through all of that, he supported me. I had my head shoved so far up my ass that I didn't see the toll it was all taking on him." A soft, sad smile pressed her lips thin as sorrow balled up in her throat. "He's so strong that I'm afraid things are manifesting this way now because something's broken."

A long sigh spooled out. "And he's always had this thing with Adrien … Primarch Victus. They're good friends, best friends even, but the moment I enter the picture, he just …." She shook her head again and jumped up off the chair, pacing to the door. "And, it's insane. I love Adrien as a friend, but I have absolutely no desire for anyone but my husband." Her arms gave a helpless little flip as she paused, turning back. "I don't know how to make him believe that … really believe it."

Leaning back in her chair, Karin frowned. "When Garrus gets like that, whatever you do, don't let him bite you."

Shepard jerked back. What? Where had that come from? "Bite me?" She returned to the desk, her face collapsing into a confused scowl. "Why would he bite me?" Perching on the edge of her chair, she watched her friend's face, seeing a battle going on there, but over what? "He's not a rabid varren."

The doctor sighed. "Humans evolved as omnivores … scavengers. We ate what we could find. It wasn't until we developed weapons that we became good predators. Turians evolved as apex predators. They had weapons built right in: talons and teeth. Very early turians lived in tight-knit, family-based clans. They had a territory, they had their mates and offspring, and they defended both with every weapon at their disposal—both males and females. Even the later, larger units of several clans had strong territories, everyone had their territory, their family."

Shepard nodded. That explained a lot about how protective Garrus had always been, and the marking. "Okay, so this is what?"

"Primarch Victus … does he view you as a friend only? Is there anything else there?" The way Karin asked, led Shepard along the path of her reasoning.

Shepard flopped back and closed her eyes, a rough groan-sigh escaping. "Adrien may not be as entirely committed to friendship as I am. Yes, he respects Garrus, and he would never betray either of our friendships, but he has feelings and isn't always the best at hiding them."

"Garrus is acting on very old programming, probably because of his PTSD getting so severe." She looked into Shepard's eyes, meeting the Admiral's confusion with a shrug. "It's called the challenge instinct. Both genders possess it, but it has become mostly non-existent. They don't need it anymore, so they're evolving out of it." She sighed. "It's something they don't like to talk about, but it rears its head far more often than they'll admit. And while I understand why they try to pretend it doesn't exist, the secrecy makes it difficult to deal with."

"Okay, so … ." Shepard's scowl deepened. "It's some sort of territorial thing?"

Karin waggled her head. "It's deeper than that, it's a biological, neurochemical transition inside his brain. Unfortunately, he doesn't have all that much control over it. And that's why you need to be careful, Shepard. When that switch clicks over, so do glands in his throat and the psycho-sexual portion of his brain. Biting was a defense, but it was also part of mating several hundred thousand years ago. When the instinct kicks in, he creates toxins in his saliva that could well kill you." She hesitated and winced, clearly not wanting to keep going.

"Come on, give it to me." Shepard took a long breath. "No one warns you that things are going to be quite as complicated as they are when you fall in love with a member of another species. So, lay it out. Informed is better than not."

Nodding, the doctor leaned forward, transitioning into her earnest, professional demeanour. "Since the challenge is one for his mate, it could turn on you. He could try to … assert his territory."

"Oh." Shepard slumped a little in her chair. "Okay." Denial screwed her lips and brow into knots. "But … no! Come on, this is Garrus we're talking about. He just would never."

"Yes, but you said it yourself, Shepard. When he was in that state, he wasn't Garrus." Karin let out a long sigh. "When the family faced a threat, all of the members reacted and dealt with it. So, not only is that part of Garrus's brain reacting to what he sees as a rival, it's reacting to you not facing the challenge as well." She held up her hands as Shepard opened her mouth. "I know, you can't react to it."

Scowl turning from perplexed to thoughtful, Shepard shook her head. "No, I can't. At least, not the way he does, but I can react to it, and I haven't been." Suddenly, it all cleared up, the picture inside her head zooming into focus. Nausea accompanied her disbelief. How had she let it go on so long knowing how upset it made Garrus? "I've been ignoring it, hoping that Adrien would just get over it and it would all go away." Certainty lent conviction to her words, and in her gut. It wasn't enough to just tell Garrus that she was his and that their family was the most important thing in her life. "I need to lay down the law, defend my family where Garrus can see it."

Setting her shoulders and spine, she walked to the door. "Thanks, Karin. I appreciate the ear." Just before she reached out to palm the control, she turned back. "I don't have anyone to talk to about these things."

"You're welcome." Karin nodded. "Although, about this, I think you do have people to talk to, and ones who know far more than I do. Herros has, no doubt, faced his own issues with it. He went through the first contact war, so might just have some insights that will help." She stood and walked over. "And Gira." An understanding smile accompanied a shrug. "I know you're used to being alone after all this time, but you have a family now, and they understand your husband far better than I ever will."

"Yeah." She reached out and squeezed Karin's shoulder. "Thanks." She hit the door control and stepped through before remembering the actual reason she'd headed down to see the doctor. "How are things coming together medically? Were you able to find someone to treat these people on an ongoing basis?"

The doctor stepped up and leaned against the door frame, keeping it open. "Yes. An asari doctor in the capital said she would come out later today and speak with Da'lat, organize everything. She's volunteered her time and labour, so it would be good to find a way to cover the costs of supplies and equipment."

Shepard gave the doctor a quick, definite nod. "Absolutely. Talk to Liara, see what she can organize. If you need me for anything, just radio. I'll be all over today. I would like to have us on the way back to Palaven tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am." Karin grinned and headed back into medbay.

Shepard hesitated outside the door. As much as she had an idea what to do about Adrien and Garrus, Karin was right. She really had just treated her marriage as though she was bonded to a human with different customs, but she wasn't. Her husband was a completely different species and as much as they had in common, they had at least as much that couldn't be more different. Talking to Herros could help, talking to Gira might help too, but she hated to discuss Garrus with everyone, no matter how well intentioned.

"Hey, Admiral Too Busy to Talk to her Sister," Sol called, jogging down the short corridor from the crew quarters. "Spare a couple of minutes for me?"

Shepard smiled as she stopped to wait for Sol. "Of course. What's up?"

Sol stopped next to Shepard and closed her talons around the admiral's fingers. "Tea and amarceru in your cabin in five minutes, that's what's up." She leaned in to bump her brow against Shepard's temple. "Kaidan's got Lenka and Mercy, and Garrus is out helping renovate the big house." She shook her head and gave a little shrug. "I didn't even know he liked working with his hands like that."

Shepard almost opened her omnitool to check the time. She really did have a ton of work to do before they left, and with classes starting at the academy in less than two weeks … . Then, nodding, she hooked her arm through Sol's and headed for the galley. "Sure, sounds good."

Five minutes later, they settled onto the couches in Shepard—Kaidan's—cabin, hot drinks held between hands and talons. They sat silently for long moments before Sol turned, lifting a knee up onto the seat, her expression more awkward than Shepard was used to.

"So," her sister-in-law said, "humans are weird."

Caught off guard, Shepard chuckled, her brows lifting toward her hairline. "Yeah, I suppose we are." She took a sip of her sweet, milky tea. "Anything in particular bringing this on?"

Sol made a thesis level study of blowing on her amarceru before replying. "Kaidan and I are trying to figure things out." A delicate shrug rolled across her shoulders, caving in toward her cowl. "We've never … ." Another shrug. "Well, with planning our bonding, we know that the time is coming when we're going to have to figure out what goes where and how." When she looked up, meeting Shepard's eyes, Sol's expression looked so pained that the admiral wondered if her sister wasn't having second thoughts about bonding with a human.

She smiled, all trace of her previous teasing humour gone. "You two haven't made love?"

Sol bristled a little. "No. It took us a bit to figure out even the whole kissing issue." She winced. "It seemed very … unhygienic."

Shepard pressed her lips together to keep from grinning at Sol's tone of complete disgust, but obviously didn't contain the sparkle in her eyes because the tarin straightened, going rigid. Holding up a palm to still her sister's protest, Shepard swallowed hard, gaining a tenuous hold on the chuckle trying to muscle its way out. "I understand how it could seem less than sexy to someone who isn't used to it."

Sol looked so miserable that the humour bled away again. "It's important to him, I understand that is how he shows affection … and he does use turian means as well, but he's someone who expresses affection physically. And he doesn't have subvocals he can use, but … ." Slumping a little in her seat, she said, "If it wasn't for you and Garrus obviously having found a way around all these things, I think I would have given up."

"I guess I just got really lucky," Shepard said, realizing the truth as she said it. "Garrus was always very willing to embrace the ways humans show affection. He was a little awkward at first, but a quick study." She grinned. "He's a hell of a kisser for a guy with no lips." A long sigh spooled out. "As for the other … we explored and experimented and taught one another what we liked." Popping her shoulders in a small shrug, she raised her eyebrows. "And ... intercourse … yeah, we were a little unsure of how to actually organize ourselves, and male human bits are very different from turian ones. It took time and the fact that I loved him so hard that I couldn't keep my hands off him."

She shrugged in time with a deep breath and turned a little more, facing Sol face on. "In the end, I think the fact that we worked came down to one thing, and it's probably something Kaidan has told you, but you didn't believe him." Reaching out, she took Sol's hand. "Garrus was so nervous. I told him that I didn't care if all he did was hold me. That was enough. It will always be enough. If he was in an accident tomorrow, and we could never have intercourse again, it would be okay, because all I've ever needed was for him to wrap those arms around me and hang on." She squeezed Sol's talons. "Now, even with all the differences, I can't imagine making love to anyone else."

Sol shifted a little, then reached over and set her tea on the coffee table. "Kaidan has expressed that sort of sentiment, and I do want … I mean, I want that closeness, but … ."

As she broke off, Shepard didn't miss the way Sol's eyes shone or how she kept swallowing. For as many differences there might be between the species, there really were far more similarities. "But?" Moving closer, Shepard took both of Sol's hands, the air between them beginning to vibrate with tension. "Talk to me. What's going on, Sol? Do you love Kaidan?"

The tarin's elegant talons gripped Shepard's hard enough to grind the bones together. "I didn't even know I could feel this much for someone, Jane." Swallowing hard, she shrugged again. "But I'm afraid." She pulled away and stood, pacing over to the fishtank. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm prickly. I'm not all warm and squishy like Garrus, or even my pari." Reaching up, she splayed her talons against the glass. "Why would someone like Kaidan want to spend his life with someone who is more likely to jab him with an elbow than put her arm around him?"

Shepard chuckled and shook her head. "He loves you, Sol. One of the first things you did was break his nose and give him two black eyes, and what did he do? He asked you to spend the rest of your life with him. He knows who you are, and he loves that tarin. So come on, talk to me. What is really going on?"

"Pari was with someone other than mari for cycles," she said, her voice barely crossing the space. "On the Citadel he had his asari weekday family, came home to mari and me on weekends. I saw what it did to her." She paced, stalking a slow circuit from the stairs to the bed and back. "Mari was amazing: funny and giving. She was everything I'm not, and it still took her being diagnosed with a terminal illness for pari to come home and do right by her."

"Ah." Shepard held out a hand, snagging Sol as she walked by. "Come and sit down. Pacing isn't going to sort anything." She guided her sister back onto the couch, pulling her down next to her. "Okay," she said, wrapping her arm around Sol's cowl, "you're afraid that one day Kaidan is going to look at you and think, 'What the hell am I doing with this ornery turian and her kids?'? Right?"

Sol just chuffed and sank into the couch a little. "Why wouldn't he?"

Shepard kissed her sister's temple. "Because he's Kaidan, love. And because he's over the moon, head over heels in love with you." Resting her brow against Sol's crest, Shepard sighed. "He and I talked in the elevator on the way here, and that man … he adores you, Sol. He's found what he was looking for."

Drawing in a long breath, Shepard pulled back to meet her sister's eyes. "You don't have to worry about him leaving because you're prickly or because you're sick. No matter what happens, he is going to be there, hanging on for dear life." A sharp sigh cut the air. "You have what we humans call cold feet. It'll pass."

Brow plates scrunched down over her nose, Sol grumbled under her breath, but then bumped Shepard's brow with hers. "I still don't know what to do about the whole … mating thing."

"Take it slow. You guys figured out first base, try for second." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The man has a fantastic chest. Get his shirt off, cuddle in, you'll figure the rest out. I have faith."

A pointy elbow dug into her side a little, and Shepard grunted. "Damn, he's right about those elbows though." She grinned, then leaned forward to pick up her tea. "Laugh together over the awkward bits, don't be afraid to tell him what you like, and be brave enough to ask what he likes. Just don't put any pressure on the whole sex issue. No matter what, it'll be great, because it's you and him."

"The kissing is nice now that we have it figured out." A long sigh seemed to relax all Sol's points and barbs. "And he smells so good."

Sol retrieved her amarceru and sipped at it for a few seconds, before she turned to look into Shepard's eyes. Mandibles dropping and giving a distressed flick, she asked, "And what about you and Garrus?" When Shepard didn't answer, Sol turned to face her. "You're worried, and he's so out of balance that it's terrifying." Tipping her head a little to one side, she angled back a little. "Well, this morning he wasn't as bad, but he's still off."

"We had a little run in with Adrien yesterday," Shepard admitted. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, she debated asking Sol about the whole challenge issue. It still felt like a betrayal. Maybe she should ask Garrus himself.

"That explains it." Sol leaned against the couch, her arm resting along the back. "There is a place in his head that thinks the primarch is better for you than he is." The soft chuff that followed came out sounding self-depreciating, no doubt as the parallels between them stabbed under her plates. "He thinks you'll leave him. That's why he is hiding his PTSD and trying to be whatever you need."

"I've been doing the exact wrong thing with Adrien as well." Shepard rested her mug on one thigh and ran her palm down the other, straightening out the wrinkles in her trouser leg. "I've been doing the human thing: ignoring it and hoping he'll get the hint."

"Yeah, to both Garrus and the primarch, that just means maybe he's got a shot one day." Sol chuckled and gave Shepard's shoulder a gentle shove. "Now, if he was a female messing with your torin, ancient tribal law would have you challenge her to a fight to the death. Once you killed her, you could eviscerate the corpse and spread the blood and parts as far as possible to serve warning to other females."

Shepard winced, both horrified and impressed. "Wow. That certainly makes a statement."

"The ancients took these things very seriously," Sol agreed, her tone flippant.

"Well, aside from spreading gore and landing in front of a firing squad for assassinating the primarch, how do you suggest I approach Adrien?"

"Gently," she replied, serious that time. "Where Garrus can see it, but gently. You are a kind woman, so showing anything else will just register as false. And … the primarch is a very good torin, he deserves kindness." She smiled, but sincerely. "It's not his fault that you're the irresistible praela of war and love and loyalty. Who could resist that combination?"

Rolling her eyes, Shepard shifted, even the idea of being held up as some sort of ideal writhing through her guts. "That's just ridiculous. I'm barely even a soldier any more, and back then I was just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sol's mandibles spread. "That doesn't matter. The fact is that all three of you know that if you hadn't been with Garrus when Victus came along, you'd be the primarch's bond-mate right now." When Shepard began to argue, Sol gave her a not so gentle shove. "Don't insult my powers of perception. You know it's true."

Never having thought about it that way, Shepard allowed herself to imagine the scenario. Maybe. If her heart had been free in the days following Tarquin's death, she might have fallen and hard. Still, she had been committed to Garrus, was still committed to Garrus, and that left her with a couple of uncomfortable truths to deal with.

The first was telling Adrien to back off. Her gut and heart wrenched in opposite directions at that thought. Maybe it was arrogant to assign herself enough importance to worry about hurting him, but she did. The primarch really had been kicked around enough, but better a bruised heart than Garrus ripping out his throat.

Focusing outside her head, Shepard looked into Sol's eyes. "Karin said that Garrus could be dangerous when he goes into these spells." Betraying her discomfort with a vague shrug, Shepard ploughed ahead. "Will he talk to me about them, or is the whole thing something considered too shameful for him to tell me what's going on?"

Sol's mandibles fluttered, looking like they were set on flying right off her face. "As for hurting you, I don't like to think my brother would let that happen. It has, and does, happen, though. If people hear of it, they generally try to pass it off as taking place amongst only the mentally ill." She chuffed. "It's not true, of course, and it's probably happening a lot more now because of the war and daily life being so dangerous for most people." She looked down at her talons. "Most of the time you hear about people blanking under extreme danger or stress and killing an attacker, that sort of thing."

She grumbled, letting out a breath that rolled with subvocals. "I almost said Garrus was too strong to let that happen, but that's another stulti myth. It has nothing to do with being weak." A thoughtful expression dragged her brow plates low over her eyes. "Deal with the primarch where Garrus can see you defending your family. That will help. Then, just watch him, and if he heads to that place, don't be afraid to leave, or call for help. Just keep everything as calm as you can, and try to connect to him emotionally."

Sol laughed, but the sound dropped a heavy weight over them. "We are a civic culture, and to a large extent—though not nearly the war-crazed lunatics the galaxy seems to think we are—a military one, but we're a civilized people. We pride ourselves on our control and our honour, and the depth of everything we keep hidden from the eyes and judgment of other races. This makes the whole ancient instinct, brain going primal thing extremely distasteful."

Shepard shifted, the leather creaking under her backside. "He's not going to talk to me, is he?"

Waggling her head, Sol turned, lifting her leg onto the seat again as she slipped out from under Shepard's arm. "No, probably not." She chuffed, her shoulders rolling a little. "But Pari will, and I will, and we'll both keep an eye on him too." A gentle smiled fluttered across her face. "Between the three of us, we'll take care of him. That's what family does, right?"

"Yeah, it is." Shepard threw back the cold dregs of her tea, wincing a little as she swallowed. "And family will take care of you and Kaidan as well." Trying to lift the heaviness, she chuckled. "Even if talking about your brother having sex grosses you out, I want you to come to me if you have questions or are worried about anything. We're both trying to make a relationship work with someone we don't always understand."

Sol stood. "And my mission is to get his shirt off and snuggle." She shuddered, but a wide grin betrayed her. "The things I do for that man."

"Your willingness to throw yourself on the snuggling grenade is an inspiration." Shepard pushed up and followed her sister to the stairs. Affection warmed her humour. Sol didn't give herself nearly enough credit. The tarin had sharp spines, sure, but they were all on the outside. Underneath, the tarin possessed one of the best hearts Shepard had ever known. She patted Sol's shoulder. "You're a giver."

Shepard's omnitool chimed as she reached the top of the stairs. "I'll see you down in the shuttle bay?" she asked. "I'm headed over to the compound when I'm done here."

Sol lifted a hand but didn't pause or turn back. "One spectacular, turian bodyguard coming up. See you down there."

Shepard waited until the door closed behind her sister before she opened the message. Adrien. Letting out a long breath, she nodded to herself. Painful or not, she could do it. For Garrus, she could do anything.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard opened a new message and started typing even as she spoke. "I'll talk to Kaidan. We can head straight there when we're done here, and I want to be done here in a few hours." Still typing, she started down the length of the cargo bay. "Wrap up what you need to, Primarch. This bus is headed for Illium."
> 
> "Yes, ma'am." He chuckled. "You've really never understood the whole primarch outranks admiral concept, have you?"
> 
> "Not in the slightest." She sent the message and closed her omnitool before glancing back. "What's a primarch, again?"

**August 17, 2188**

The primarch stared into Shepard's eyes for long moments, the brilliant amber of his gaze clouded and stormy. After a handful of long breaths, he nodded, mandibles sagging a little. "I understand, Jane, and I apologize for behaving inappropriately."

"Thank you." Shepard smiled despite the fist crushing her heart, and made no move to comfort or ease the blow. She and Adrian could talk it all through when Garrus wasn't around. Until then, she just needed to steel herself and stick to business. So, instead of reacting, she raised her eyebrows and opened her omnitool. "So, what was this about a message?"

Adrien followed the transition smoothly, activating his omnitool as well. "I sent out a query to a few close associates about the device we discovered, and when I woke up this morning, a very unexpected message awaited me." He tapped the interface, the message appearing in Shepard's inbox a moment later. "Look at the origin."

Shepard frowned, curiosity and alarm waging war in her gut. "Illium? What's this prefix? I've never seen anything like it before." Looking up, she met his stare, curiosity coming out on top when she saw the sparkle of intrigue there. "What?"

"You don't know it, because you never needed it before the galaxy went to hell." His mandibles flicked almost constantly, his excitement uncontained and overflowing. "It's a Spectre deep operative prefix, designed to render the point of origin untraceable except to anyone but the council's pick up team. It's used only when a Spectre has taken a crippling injury and needs to be evac'd." He nodded at the display glowing above her arm. "But this message gives us coordinates for a meeting a couple of hours south of Nos Astra."

Shepard scanned the message. "He claims to know something about the device?"

"He?" Adrien's brow plates raised. "You think you know who it is?"

Shaking her head at the teasing set to the primarch's mandibles, she turned toward Garrus, her torin working on looking busy near the  _Normandy's_  ramp. "I do, and you do too. There's a reason he used that prefix: it was a signature." She opened a new message and started typing even as she spoke. "I'll talk to Kaidan. We can head straight there when we're done here, and I want to be done here in a few hours." Still typing, she started down the length of the cargo bay. "Wrap up what you need to, Primarch. This bus is headed for Illium."

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled. "You've really never understood the whole primarch outranks admiral concept, have you?"

"Not in the slightest." She sent the message and closed her omnitool before glancing back. "What's a primarch, again?" Serious ousted teasing as she met her friend's eyes and the subject of their conversation—the mysterious, empathic device—reasserted itself. "Balak sold off almost everything the estate's previous owner possessed, but he kept that device." She shrugged, but the gesture weighed her down, the implications of what they'd found enormous. "It might help us figure out what he's up to, and that's not something that can wait."

Victus nodded, serious as well. "Traynor will have the QEC installed in the main house this morning, so we'll be free to leave as soon as that's complete."

"Excellent. See you in a couple of hours." She turned away, long, quick strides carrying her down the cargo bay. Walking up behind Garrus, she stopped a couple of metres back and folded her arms, leaning on a hip as she looked him over. "Damn, you're sexy when you're tinkering."

He chuffed, but it came out light and happy. "You always think I'm sexy." Voice rolling with warm subvocals, he chuckled and then continued. "It's why you can't keep your hands off me."

Shepard pressed her lips together to contain her grin and shifted hips. "True. Very, very true." She glanced past him, looking down the ramp to where Joker sat at one of the tables, eating his breakfast. "Wow, who got Joker off the ship, and how did they manage such a miracle?"

"Tali, of course, and she likely used some combination of feminine wiles and threats." He straightened from his work, repairing a power router, and turned to face her. "It's a very persuasive combination." Taking a step toward her, he cleared his throat. "Not that I would ever succumb to such an obvious manipulation."

Shepard straightened, nodding. "No, of course not." She closed the distance between them and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against the cool smoothness of his armour. "We'll be headed for Illium as soon as we're finished here. The primarch received a message about the little machine we discovered."

Twisting in the circle of her arms, Garrus set down his work before returning her embrace, leaning down to press his brow to hers. Shepard let out a long breath, relaxing into her husband's arms. As she softened against him, her own tension draining away, the more aware she became of his . A heavy, electric energy vibrated through him, his grip on her a bit too tight, his head a little too heavy against hers.

Then he pulled away, his hand sliding down her arm until his talons threaded through her fingers. "Come with me?" he asked, his voice gentle and pitched low. He reached up, the backs of his talons skating across her cheek. "Just for a minute."

The cool air burned Shepard's nostrils as she sucked in a long breath. Staring into his eyes, she looked for any sign of detachment, not seeing anything, but the fact she'd stopped to look made her wince. Damn. Was she going to end up hesitating every time her husband reached for her? She nodded and touched his cheek.

Garrus leaned in to press a soft kiss against her lips, then led her toward the front of the cargo bay and the door to the aft battery. Shepard stepped into his side. Slipping her fingers from his grip, she wrapped her arm around him and pulled herself in tight. She wouldn't let herself go to that dark, suspicious place with him. She just wouldn't. She'd rather he ripped her limb from limb than spend her marriage fearing him … worse, acting afraid of him. He didn't deserve that. Not ever.

He opened the door, then stepped back to allow her to go ahead, shutting it behind them. Stopping a few paces from the door, she turned back, her heart thumping a little faster and harder as he held his hand out to her.

"I love you," he said, his voice scarcely registering over the hum of the weapon and computers. "I know that I haven't been the torin or the mate that I should be." When she took his hand, he pulled her into him, wrapping himself around her. "But I love you, and I love our girls." One hand slipped down between them, pressing against her belly. "And I love him."

Shepard pulled back. "I never doubt it, Garrus. Not ever." She cradled his face between her hands. "No woman could ask for a better, more supportive, more loving mate or father for her children."

He pressed her back against the door, bending to kiss her, his mouth hot and urgent against hers. She lifted into him, responding in kind, lips and tongue speaking silent oaths. One hand slipped around her ribcage, his thumb following the sweeping line of bone before it continued down over her stomach to dip beneath the waistband of her trousers. Tugging her uniform free, it crept beneath, the cool weave of his glove sliding over her skin for a moment before disappearing.

"Damned gloves," he muttered, half grumble, half chuckle, as he reached behind her to tug both gauntlets off, letting them fall to the deck plating beside her. His hands returned, both slipping beneath her uniform, one behind her back, drawing her into the hard angles of his armour, the other wrapping around her ribcage and sliding up until the web between his thumb and talon supported the weight of her breast.

Shepard looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Mmmm, I do love those callouses, and your hands are deliciously warm. This place always feels cold." Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his mouth. She closed her eyes as his thumb brushed over her nipple, moan drifting from her lips, a lilting note of breathy music that sang in the air between them. When the tip of that talon scraped over that sensitive skin, a sharp burn settling into a fiery heat, she lifted into him, the keel of his armour digging into her sternum.

Chuckling, a soft, rolling sound as comforting as the rumble of tires over gravel, he returned her kiss, his tongue darting out to slide along hers then retreating, drawing her in. An intricate dance teased them with its choreography, Garrus's strong lead asking her to risk a little more with every passing breath.

Gentle, loving, he caressed the sting from her skin with the pad of his thumb while his hand kneaded the soft, excited flesh. When she relaxed back into the wall, her head lolling back, opening her throat to his tongue and teeth, he captured her nipple between his talons, the points gripping it carefully. Her belly tightened, heat flowing across her pelvis and down through her thighs to loosen her knees, leaving them trembling.

"Shepard," he said, his voice low and affectionate, but firm.

She obeyed the unspoken command and opened her eyes, meeting the intensity and love with a shaky smile and a nod. She wanted him to keep going, wanted to feel that deep, bee's nest hum of pleasure and need just above her sex ... to disappear into that place of perfect quiet where nothing existed beyond the two of them.

He smiled, the upper plate of his mouth brushing the upper ridge of her lip, no doubt savouring the softness. "That's my girl." He turned his face away, his cheek pressed to hers, his breath a late summer zephyr brushing through the hair around her ear.

The words melted every last trace of tension, doubt, or even curiosity from her mind and heart, her body softening into the supporting arm behind her back as he leaned in to kiss her. How three simple little words … words that in another life and another time had pulled terrified tears from her eyes when she thought they meant goodbye … could make her feel so cherished, so safe and cared for, she'd probably never understand, but they did. She'd spent so long caring for her crew, then caring for the entire damned galaxy, and it had worn her so completely threadbare that only one thing had allowed her to face the effort of returning after the Crucible.

"Shhh." The hiss whispered against her ear. "Get out of your head, Shepard. Stay here, in the moment with me." He tugged at the nipple held between talon tips, lifting her breast away from her chest wall. The sharp prick of pain travelled down into her flesh, digging roots between her ribs. She gasped, laying back against his arm. Head back, mouth open, she let out another lilting moan as the tendrils spread through her body. They grew, digging further and deeper, and what they lost along their keen edge they transferred into an exhilarating, molten burn.

"Breathe into it," he whispered into her ear. "Feed it until it bursts into flame." The hand behind her back caressed its way around her front, giving her time to recover her balance. Instead, she let her shoulders thump back against the wall, the movement causing a sharp tug on her breast. Magma burst through her chest, a lava bomb striking and exploding, a corona of pain flaring in all directions, its offshoots curling back around to dig their heady claws into her groin.

Garrus released her and pulled away, his hands lifting her uniform and bra to grasp her breast. "Spirits, Shepard, don't ever fall back or move quickly unless I say so." Quick, efficient concern replaced the slow, smoky passion of the moment before as his talons moved over the aching flesh, searching for damage. "I could have really hurt you."

"I'm fine," she said, leaning in to brush her cheek against his. "I just got a little too relaxed into the moment." Soft, wet kisses teased the length of his mandible as she drew back. "I'm fine, and it was amazing." Her hands floated up to cradle his face, her vision soft, slightly unfocused, and pulsing a little in time with her heart.

He leaned down to kiss her, his hands unfastening her belt and trousers, laying them open before returning to their posts: one in the small of her back, the other cupping her breast. "Hands on my shoulders, wife," he said, his mandibles flicking a little as he curled an undertone of command beneath his words.

"Yes, Garrus." She added a throaty roll to his name that pulled a moan from him. She closed her eyes, leaning back against his arm a little.

"Get up here." His arm slipped under her backside, supporting and lifting her as she jumped nimbly into his arms. He supported her until she got her legs wrapped around him. "This is a little easier without armour." Despite grumbling, he leaned in to kiss her, his tongue dancing inside her mouth as one hand slipped into the back of her trousers. Teasing their way down under her, his talons wriggled forward until they could dip into her center. Garrus let out a long, throaty, rumbling breath. "Spirits, I love that," he said, sliding the pad of one talon through her slippery wetness.

Shepard lifted a little, arching her back to ease his access. She brushed the tip of her nose against his then kissed the upper plate of his mouth, sucking just hard enough to keep her lips pressed to his skin for a moment as she pulled away. "Take me to that place, Garrus," she whispered, then kissed him again. "Please."

He backed her into the wall, the metal ice cold against the bare skin across her hips, and lifted his free hand up to cradle the back of her neck. His talons gripped her hair, easing her head back, opening the long expanse of her throat. "I should have taken this damned armour off," he said, the words a hoarse, tangled grunt of need and frustration.

Shepard simply rolled her hips against his talons and closed her eyes, a slow, soft moan reeling out to wrap around him and pull him back in. His answering growl tugged at her lips, and then his mouth claimed the open arc of her throat, breath hot, tongue hungry and possessive, teeth raking the delicate skin. The keel of his armour dug into her sternum, the metal cold between her breasts, the ache sublime as it crawled inside her, burrowing straight through to her spine.

Her husband's teeth pinched her neck, dragging a gasp of naked, undulating, breathless desire from her throat. Like waves of heat rising off the desert, it whispered between her lips, burning them so that her tongue darted out to wet them. Garrus's talons slipped through her, her lust coating his hide, turning callouses to silk, and she lifted into his touch, opening to him, wanting … god, no … not want. The ache heating her pelvis demanded to feel him inside her.

The teeth on her neck tightened their grip, slowly, feeling as inexorable as the endless countdown of time. The sensation stabbed down her nerves, changing to a scalding as it spread out like the fractal pattern of a lightning strike, building in intensity until she mewled softly. Her hands clutched at his armour, suddenly as frustrated with it as he was. Following the lines of metal and ceramic, they finally reached his neck and climbed to his fringe.

As she dragged her knuckles along the sensitive underside, his talon slipped inside her, just to the first knuckle. Her stomach muscles and groin clenched tight, all the fire burning in her belly flowing down her veins. She arched into his hand, aching for more. It wasn't enough, her body insisted, clutching at it, trying to draw him deeper into her. She pressed her jaw against his mandible, mouth hanging open, lips clinging to his hide as she panted.

"Please," the word skimmed along the underside of her breath. "Please … oh god … fill me." Lucidity vanished as he withdrew his finger and curled it, rolling the knuckle against her, just inside. Her thighs trembled, growing weary from her grip on his waist as she pulled herself further into him with every pulse, every tremor. Goddamn his armour and all the damned teasing. Shoved up against a door in the aft battery or not, she wanted nothing between them, and to feel his length sliding into her.

His teeth released her neck, the point of his tongue laving the marks. Pain washed up over the sand for a moment, tiny waves pushing a little further before settling back. Nipping, tongue teasing, he made his way back up to her mouth, the hand at the nape of her neck pulling her in hard. Possessive, passionate, and demanding, the kiss deepened, until Shepard sagged in his arms, dizzying, her legs trembling too hard to hold her.

His finger slipped inside her again, still only to the first knuckle, teasing rather than giving in to the demands of the muscles that gripped him, the pelvis that thrust against him.

"Stop," he said, not lifting his mouth from hers. His tone left her no doubt that it wasn't teasing but a serious order.

The edge of command set off a heavy, delicious spasm that began at her toes, a wave travelling up her body, every muscle tightening like a clenching fist then easing down. When it passed, she remained utterly still but for her breathing despite the steady throb between her legs. After a moment, he kissed her again, his talons travelling further forward. Thumb and outside digit spread her open, the other sliding over her, teasing her heated, aching flesh with not the pad, but the sharp tip.

As the point of that talon dragged over her most sensitive spot, he whispered, "Come for me, wife."

The subvocals nested in those four, simple words tore through her, ripping her open at her most fundamental level. She cried out, harsh and deep, the sound feeling as though it originated somewhere deep at the center of her. Garrus kissed her hard, as if pulling her cry of pleasure into himself, and then his talon began to press into her. Just the tip and slowly, the pressure building slow, but also steadily. Her entire body spasmed hard, locking tight, then jerking helplessly in his arms.

Pleasure and pain mingled, becoming so intense that tears ran down her face. Breathing … dear god, she couldn't breathe. Her fists grabbed at him, convulsively flexing, then punching against his armour. He didn't loosen either hold on her, keeping her locked into the kiss. Setting her hands against his cowl, she pushed away from him then tried to lift up, to get away from that sharp, agonizing, amazing pain.

"Stop." Again the word dropped with complete command, and she stilled. "Push into it. Slow and steady." She hesitated and his grip on the back of her neck tightened, but the pressure stopped increasing. "Do you want to use the word, Shepard?"

For a moment, the word sat on the tip of her tongue. Pyjak. One word and the pain would stop. But dear god, help her, so would the orgasm that shook her. Both vicious and exhilarating, the harrowing pleasure refused to crest and release her from its teeth. Did she want to use the word?

"No," she whispered. Her tongue skated the length of his before she repeated, "A thousand times no." She shook her head and fought back against her body's natural desire to escape discomfort. Pushing down slowly, her body jerking away now and again, she closed her eyes and let the sensation build. Sharp and bitter ripened to sweet as she broke through the layers, like biting into a plum. She held on to that image as she inhaled, the spicy, rich scent of her husband flooding through her.

Another wave built then rolled through, the need and pressure finally cresting as the pain eased, replaced by a firm touch that circled but didn't make contact with her overstimulated center. Clutching at his armour, ecstasy ripping the air from her lungs, she tumbled into the crashing surf. A kaleidoscope of fireworks, colour and light pulsed behind her eyelids while the roar of the surf deafened her to everything but the gentle susurrus of her husband's breath. Wave after wave poured through her, muscles tightening until they threatened to lock, then easing. Mouth open and panting against his, she washed up on shore, strength spent.

Sucking in a deep, ragged breath, she collapsed into the strong, solid arms that cradled her against him.

"That's my girl," he whispered, slipping his hand out from under her and wrapping it under her backside to hold her weight. "Let me know when you can stand on your own."

Shepard chuckled, an exhausted trickle of sound. "It's going to take me a minute. I think you just turned all my bones into jello."

"Take your time," he said, his big hand rubbing circles on her back. "I can't complain about this position right here." He laughed, warm and throaty. "Other than my armour being in the way."

Shepard linked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down until their brows touched. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the warmth of her mate's hand on her back and just breathed. It took a good five minutes before she felt confident to stand on her own.

"Okay, I think I've got this," she said. Still, she kept a grip on the cowl of his armour when he lowered her to the deck plating. Her knees and thigh muscles trembled but held her. After another minute, she stepped away from him, and turned her hands to tucking her uniform back in and straightening herself up.

Her nipple complained with her every movement, the horizontal seam in her uniform perfectly positioned to be a torment. It would smart like hell when Mercy nursed, still she couldn't help grin as she brushed her hand over her breast. She fastened her trousers, then turned her smile on her husband.

Garrus cradled her cheek in his hand, his thumb talon brushing along her lower lip. "You never stop amazing me with how powerful you are." His mandibles flicked and he shook his head. "Or how brave you are." Ice blue eyes stared into hers, for long seconds, then he nodded toward the door at her back. "You have ten minutes to wrap up whatever you were doing before I interrupted you, and then I need you up in the cabin for at least an hour."

Shepard answered with a single nod and a kiss. "Yes, Garrus." Turning, she unlatched the door and pulled it open.

"I mean it," he said, a hand on her shoulder keeping her from leaving. "No longer than ten minutes. I pushed you hard; you're tired and shocky. You need a hot shower, tea, food—"

Glancing back over her shoulder, she nodded and said, "And my husband's arms wrapped good and tight around me. I'll be up." She lifted his talons from her shoulder and kissed each one, before releasing them and heading out into the comparatively glaring light of the shuttle bay. It took her half the length of the bay before she could take a step without her entire body jerking, the slight friction of skin against skin setting her off. She took her time, needing to have settled before anyone laid eyes on her.

When she stepped off the end of the ramp and out into the sun, Joker remained sitting at the closest picnic table. The pilot was eating a sandwich and watching the day, the expression on his face skeptical, even dubious. Shepard grinned and shook her head. They'd never convince him that anything could substitute for the  _Normandy's_ pilot seat … not even a quick lunch in the sun.

"Hey," she called, keeping her voice low so as to not startle him, "it's good to see you out manufacturing some natural vitamin D."

He grumbled, so petulant that she couldn't help but laugh. "It's under protest." He sniffed and glanced up at the sky. "I don't like it—too much like nature—but Tali wouldn't stop nagging until I caved in and agreed to an hour of sun."

Shepard sat across from him. "So, you're out here resenting this perfectly glorious morning?"

Eyes flashing with snark, Joker glared at her, a crooked grin on his face as he deflected the question. "Someone's cheerful this morning. Got some last night, did we?"

Laughing, she nodded. "I'm married and madly in love with my husband; I'm constantly getting some." She reveled in his discomfort for a moment, then turned to studying him, seeing something lurking beneath the snark … something real and painful. "So, come on, what's the bone you're gnawing at as you endure this cruel sentence?"

He just shrugged and made a show of ignoring her in favour of his sandwich for long enough that she felt her ten minutes running out. Finally, he let out a long grumble. "My dad and sister have been running a sort of tent orphanage on Earth since the refugee convoy got there, Shepard." A curse followed a long grumbling sigh. "I talked to them on the QEC last night, and … well, they aren't doing very well. There isn't enough food or supplies. No clothing, blankets . . . any of that stuff, you know?"

Shepard gestured to the massive farm around them. "This place does. That's what you're thinking, right? Bring Da'lat and your dad together. Combine forces?" A slight shift in the brim of his cap gave her the only clue that he'd replied to the affirmative. After a second, she nodded. "Yeah, I think it's a good idea. Earth has enough people scrambling for resources. And maybe here, they can even get things set up to start exporting some food and supplies back to Earth."

Joker cut a glance across at her, almost as if he thought she might be messing with him. "My dad was a farmer. Given land like this and some equipment, he could do a lot."

"The foundation could probably spring for tractors and some other equipment if this place doesn't have it," Shepard said, keeping her voice toned as if they were just spitballing ideas. "Maybe you should talk to Da'lat and see what she thinks of the idea." She checked the chronometer on her wrist. "I have to get back onto the ship, but … ." She turned toward the main gate where Sol waited about as impatiently as she'd ever seen anyone wait.

"Hey, Vakarian!" Shepard waved the tarin over. "Can you get Liara, Da'lat, and this snarky bastard together? He wants to discuss a joint venture." A crooked grin met her sister's skepticism. "I need to get back onto the Normandy, and I'll be out of touch for an hour or so, but if they need anything … the QEC, whatever, they have my approval."

Turning to Joker, Shepard raised her eyebrows. "Good enough?"

"Ah, yeah, Shepard." He shifted a little on the bench, his eyes darting everywhere but her face. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Shepard pushed up off the bench. "It sounds like a great solution, for everyone." She backed a couple of steps. "Now, I've got to go." She leveled Sol with a warning glare, knowing her sister would know exactly what was going on. "Important meeting. See you all in an hour. Illium awaits."


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grinning, Shepard nodded. "I do, in fact." She wrapped Jack in a tight hug. "It's good to see you, you ornery bitch."
> 
> Jack laughed and returned the embrace, smacking Shepard on the back. "Yeah. Yeah. Quit drooling on me. Damn." When Shepard pulled away, Jack punched Garrus in the arm by way of greeting. She looked around. "So, why the hell am I on Illium, Shepard?"

**August 19, 2188**

A thick curtain of rain obscured everything beyond the edge of the balcony, turning Nos Astra into an impressionist watercolour almost lovely enough to negate the pushing crowds. A forest of umbrellas hurried back and forth along the streets, but here and there Shepard saw a few outliers strolling bareheaded, their faces turned up to the rain as they savoured their soaking. She didn't blame them; nothing felt quite like a warm rain. A rain-drenched stroll would have to wait for another day, however. Letting out a long, soft sigh, she settled for pulling in a deep breath of damp, almost metallic smelling air.

"Here," Garrus said from just behind her shoulder, pulling her out of her contemplation. He held out her rain poncho, slipping it over her head when she nodded, acquiescing to his mother-henning. She pressed her lips into a crooked grin and raised an eyebrow when he pulled up the hood and tied it tight under her chin.

"Really?" she asked, affection softening down her teasing. "The hood? We have an umbrella."

He nodded, looking very pleased with himself. "We do, but you've been looking tired the last few days. I'm worried, and I don't want you to get sick." The stare that met hers held nothing but love and concern, making it impossible to conjure any annoyance or even embarrassment.

Shepard untied the hood so that it wasn't pinching her face, but left it over her head. It didn't hurt that he was right. She knew the time had come for Karin to do more scans and for her to tell ELSI to adjust her parametres in order to protect their son. "Compromise? So I don't feel like a six-year-old being sent off to school."

Chuckling, Garrus nodded and stepped into her side, wrapping an arm around her. "Jack's ship has arrived?" he asked as they set out down the long corridor, using his body to clear a path for her through the throng.

"Yes, she said she'd be waiting for us at the entrance." She squinted through the crowd. "Do you see Adrien?"

Garrus shook his head and tightened his arm around her. "His bodyguards will have pushed him through to the cars."

Shepard frowned as the absence of protection for her husband registered. It amazed her how easily she forgot that he was an important member of the turian empire's government. "Why don't you have bodyguards, Hierarch?" In a breath, the crowd went from being merely busy and self-absorbed to threatening.

Chuckling, Garrus shook his head. "We're fine, Shepard. Barl and Sol both tried, but the more of an entourage we have, the more obvious we are." He leaned in and nuzzled her when she just scowled at him. "You're here. What better bodyguard could I have?"

"Shepard! Vakarian! Stop that. Fuck!" Jack's voice broke through the ambient noise, her teasing sounding equal parts pissed off, mystified, and happy. "Which one of you can tell me why I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the fucking night and stuffed into a coach cabin on a busted ass transport ship?" The biotic stopped next to them and leaned backwards, cracking her spine. "Do you know how small those beds are?"

Grinning, Shepard nodded. "I do, in fact." She wrapped Jack in a tight hug. "It's good to see you, you ornery bitch."

Jack laughed and returned the embrace, smacking Shepard on the back. "Yeah. Yeah. Quit drooling on me. Damn." When Shepard pulled away, Jack punched Garrus in the arm by way of greeting. She looked around. "So, why the hell am I on Illium, Shepard?"

The admiral nodded toward the exit. "I might need your help. We received a mysterious message giving us coordinates here on Illium for a meeting." Shepard looked into the big, brown eyes, remembering the rage and sorrow in them after they freed Jack from Purgatory. "And, Garrus has decided he doesn't need a security detail, so consider yourself drafted."

…

" _You can trust Shepard." Garrus's voice stopped Shepard in her tracks as she cleared the bulkhead behind the SR2's elevator. She stuck her head out a little and saw Garrus and Jack facing off at the bottom of the stairs in the galley. "She's actually pretty good at helping people get their heads straightened out," Garrus continued and then shrugged. "She's worked her way through an entire boatload of emotional baggage with all of us … what's one more matched set of crazy?"_

" _Nihlus is … ." Jack stepped away from Garrus and shook her head, her throat working so hard that Shepard could see her trying to swallow from five metres away. "Nihlus is mine, Garrus. What he was … is to me, that's not for the whole fucking crew to gossip about." The biotic lunged into him, a nimbus of power gathering around her hands. "Don't you dare breathe a fucking word, Vakarian. Not even to Shepard."_

" _I wouldn't, you know that, and you also know you can trust Shepard to keep your secrets." He ignored the threat and leaned down to look the biotic in the eye. "Right?" He chuckled and nodded toward where Shepard leaned against the wall. "Besides, she already knows something's going on."_

_Shepard smiled and pushed off the bulkhead as Jack spun away from Garrus to lock stares with her. The biotic bristled, but Shepard merely walked over to the galley and turned the kettle on. "Would either of you like some tea?" She shot a teasing grin at Garrus. "Or, in your case, some mud with flower sugar in it?"_

_Garrus strode over and wrapped an arm around her for a second, leaning in for a brief kiss before he pulled away. "As appetizing as that sounds, I've got a full afternoon of avoiding another heart-to-heart planned. You two go ahead without me."_

_Shepard gave him a gentle shove, then grabbed the cowl of his armor to pull him back for another kiss. "Fine, go calibrate until your heart's content. I'll see you for dinner."_

_As Garrus headed up to the battery, Shepard caught Jack staring after him, a wistful sort of longing crossing the young woman's face: a cloud's shadow racing over the grass._

_An understanding smile greeted Jack's challenge when the biotic turned back, tensed for a fight. Keeping her voice gentle and teasing, Shepard said, "Sorry, that one's taken." She nodded toward the table. "Come have a seat with me. It was intense down on Pragia. We can sip some sweet, milky tea and decompress."_

…

Jack looked back and forth between them, her scowl deepening as she ducked under the strap of her travel bag, looping it over her head. "A body guard? Seriously? The two of you practically own the entire universe, and when you need a little extra muscle, you call me?"

Shepard shrugged. "What can I say? Some situations just require the services of the psychotic biotic." She grinned, a nervous flutter settling into her belly. Damn, she hoped her guess about their destination proved correct. "Come on, let's get to the cars before the primarch leaves us behind."

Adrien and his aides already sat waiting in the second car, the primarch's expression practically screaming his eagerness to get on the trail of their mystery and solve it. Shepard tossed him a teasing salute and then climbed into the driver's seat of the first car. She understood Adrien better than she wanted to admit. Civilian life sometimes felt bloody endless. Life as a soldier meant always moving, a new challenge or battle every few days.

Now that she'd found Lenka and brought the child's abductor's down, she worried about how she'd deal with the constant day to day of teaching and home. How long would it be before she started looking for excuses to find adventure? A soft chuckle escaped as she imagined she and Adrien sneaking out to fight crime like a couple of odd Batman-esque figures, earning her curious glances from both Garrus and Jack.

She entered the coordinates the message had sent, then sat back, letting the car deal with Illium traffic. The last time she'd driven through Nos Astra, it had been chasing Tela Vasir in a cab. She turned a grin to Garrus who just shook his head. Yep, he remembered that trip.

"So, you have no idea where we're going?" Jack demanded. "And yet, we're taking the primarch there?" She cackled softly. "I've missed your special brand of insanity, Shepard."

Shepard looked into the rearview, meeting Jack's stare as she asked, "How are your students doing?" She raised her eyebrows, upping the inquiry. "Now that the relays are open, are you going to return to Grissom?"

"The kids are great. Fucked up by the war, but coping better than I thought." Jack sighed. "We went out to Grissom a couple of weeks ago. The place is seriously fucked up, but still in orbit. The Alliance is busy repairing their own shit, so we'll need to find private suckers to cough up the dough to fix it."

Shepard grinned. "You're so stubborn. The academy needs biotics instructors who aren't asari. The humans have no representation amongst the instructors other than Kaidan. We need you and your students." She glanced over at Garrus. "Need some turians, too."

Jack growled softly and slid into a low sulk in her seat. "You're some sort of evil hypnotist, aren't you? Kahlee said she joined the academy's science administration."

Shepard laughed, low and sinister. "Yes, and I will add you to my collection, my pretty. Resistance is doomed to failure."

"Fuck." Jack scoffed and shook her head. "So are your jokes." A sudden, crooked grin took some of the sting out of her words. "At least some things never change. You've still got the saddest sense of humor in the galaxy."

…

_Jack opened her mouth, her expression assuring Shepard that the biotic intended to tell her to take her decompression and shove it out the airlock, but then something flashed across the younger woman's face: empathy maybe? Whatever it was, it showed recognition of Shepard having gasped her last in the empty, frozen void, followed by a decision to avoid mentioning it. Shepard smiled as her belief in the real Jack found a little vindication._

_Instead of mouthing off, Jack slouched over to the table and sat, pulling her feet up onto the chair. Shepard noted the defensiveness of Jack's posture, but also the almost childlike yearning in her eyes. Under all the badass, crazy routine lived a young woman desperate to love and be loved, to trust and be trusted, and have that proven out over time. Something in the depths of those big, sad, brown eyes told Shepard that Jack had found everything she needed only to have it ripped away from her._

_Shepard finished the tea then followed Jack to the table, setting down two mugs of creamy tea and a box of cookies. She sat and watched Jack for a moment before letting out a long, thin sigh. Time to pry._

" _I don't know if you noticed, but I tend to …" Shepard shrugged, sliding Jack's tea over in front of her. "... stick my nose into the business of my crew."_

" _You? I can't imagine it." Jack's mouth stayed open for a moment, as if she had a few choice swear words begging to escape, but then merely scoffed and picked up her tea, cradling the mug between her hands._

_Shepard grinned. "No, no, really, it's true. And here's what I've noticed about you." She took a sip of tea, a low moan of pleasure escaping as warm, sweet bliss rolled over her tongue. "Whenever you look at Garrus and get that lonely, lost expression on your face, your hand goes to the collar of your harness." She softened her smile as she nodded toward the leather straps that barely covered Jack's torso. "It's different than the rest. Someone put a lot of time and love into carving the leather."_

_Jack's jaw clenched as she reached up to run her fingers over it. "Yeah. It was a gift. And shut up. Take your saviour complex and shove it up your ass, Shepard. I'm not some abandoned puppy you need to rescue."_

…

The trip to the coordinates in the message took just over two hours, and landed them just outside a gorgeous mansion in the midst of impeccably groomed and landscaped grounds. When Shepard ducked out of the car, she turned her face to the light, chill mist. At least the downpour had eased up.

"Holy crap," Jack muttered, craning her neck to look up at the house as she got out of the car. She pulled her side arm and jacket out of her bag, then tossed it back into the car. "Why didn't you tell me that were summoned by the emperor of the galaxy?" she asked as she slipped on the jacket and holstered her weapon. Planting both hands in the small of her back, she stretched, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

Shepard nodded and whistled. "Because I didn't know. Holy crap, look at this place." Turning a slow circle, she took in the ponds and fountains, both teeming with native fish and birds, and the long lines of trimmed and sculpted trees that stood sentinel above gardens of riotous colour. "Imagine this place when it's not raining," she said, and whistled.

The house loomed above them, a very traditional sort of dwelling that combined the architectural sensibilities of several races. She stepped up to the second car when Adrien got out, curiosity outweighing any dread or trepidation. If they'd been summoned by who she believed, they didn't need to worry about being attacked. The atmosphere of the place felt peaceful, almost healing.

"I heard rumours this place existed when I became primarch," Adrien said, stopping to gawk as they had. "I didn't know whether it was just wishful thinking or truth." He looked into Shepard's eyes and smiled. "Looks like it exists, all right."

Shepard nodded, then allowed the primarch and his aides to lead the way to the door, waiting for her husband and Jack before following. When they passed through the front door, they all stopped to stare again, having entered a world of gleaming wood panelling and antique furnishings from every culture. Adrien already stood at a large wooden desk talking to an asari in a medical uniform. Both of them spoke in hushed tones, telling Shepard that her suspicions about the place had hit the target dead center.

The attendant smiled at all of them. "Please sign in, and I'll take you to the day room. He's spent the morning enjoying the rain."

"Rain's too cold to enjoy it," Jack grumbled, peeling off her jacket and shaking it out.

The attendant smiled and nodded. "It's a little different being out in it than watching it from the day room."

Shepard and Garrus signed in, penning their names into an actual book complete with heavy cotton paper edged in gold. Jack followed them. Shepard didn't see what name the biotic used, but it prompted a bright smile from the attendant.

"You're Jacqueline?" the asari asked, flushing cobalt across her nose and cheeks.

Jack bristled, leaning over the desk a little. "Yeah, what about it?"

Shepard moved to throw herself between them, but the attendant held up her hands and shook her head.

"Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to offend. I've just heard so much about you." The asari nodded toward a set of double doors at the end of a long corridor. "Follow me, please. He'll be very glad to see you." She stepped around the desk to lead the way. "As you can imagine, we don't get many visitors here."

Her heart pounding hard and fast, Shepard followed, hurrying up behind Adrien. "Primarch, when we reach the day room, can you and your people stay back by the door for a few minutes? I need to go ahead and see if I guessed correctly about who we're meeting." A heavy, excited vibration tingled in her gut, the attendant's reaction to Jack's name confirming her belief.

"There's something going on, isn't there?" Adrien lifted a brow plate. "Other than us coming here to find out about the device?"

Shepard glanced toward the attache case hanging from the primarch's shoulder by a long strap, the little machine calling out to her as it sang a silent song of pure joy. Whatever awaited them within, it was something that filled the small, sentient device with hope, but it would have to wait.

"Yes," she said, answering Adrien's question, "I sure hope so. We'll find out in a few minutes."

When Shepard dropped back next to Garrus again, Jack stepped up to her side. "What the hell was that, Shepard? She's heard about me?"

"I don't know, Jack. Maybe you have an acquaintance in common?" A slight shrug rolled across her shoulders as she turned to the portraits that lined the walls and prayed Jack let the subject drop for another couple of minutes.

Shepard didn't recognize most of the faces along the corridor, but then stopped to look into Saren's eyes—his real eyes, pre-Sovereign. It seemed odd to see the rogue Spectre memorialized among heroes, but she supposed that he'd done a great deal of good in his time as well. As much as he'd hated humans and as brutal as his methods had been, he'd also made sure that the galaxy could sleep soundly at night for a very long time. Her career as a Spectre amounted to a half-second compared to the likes of he and Nihlus, Tela Vasir, and so many others.

Shepard moved down a couple of metres and stopped in front of a portrait near the end of the hall, staring up into her own eyes. The picture the artist used to paint it had been taken the day she'd been inducted into the Spectres. Damn, she looked so young and so eager. "Did I ever look so completely naive and hopeful?"

"You were still a dumbass when that was taken," Jack said, pausing for just a second. "The Reapers hadn't kicked all those lessons into you yet." She stopped in front of Nihlus's portrait, her hand lifting a couple of centimetres toward it before falling to her side. "Another dumbass who needed to be smarter." Despite her words, Jack remained fixed on the portrait, her lips pressed together, eyes glassy.

She glanced at Shepard, then back. "He was just … ."

Shepard reached out and squeezed the biotic's shoulder. "Come on, let's go see why we've been summoned here." Pulling her hand back, she clenched her fist, not wanting Jack to sense the combined dread and excitement racing through her veins. If her guess about who sent the message proved wrong, she didn't want Jack to have any clue—the young woman didn't deserve to have her heart torn out twice. If she wasn't any the wiser, Shepard had just dragged her halfway across the galaxy for some bizarre consult. If Shepard's guess proved right, well … then it made for one hell of a pleasant surprise.

At least, so she hoped. It could backfire horrendously. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. She cleared her throat and turned back toward their destination.

The attendant, who waited inside an elegantly carved set of wooden doors, met Shepard's eyes, smiled, and raised her eyebrows in silent query. Something told Shepard that breaking the near silence of the place was a major taboo, so she simply nodded in return. They'd never be more ready to step through those doors.

Garrus's hand slipped into Shepard's, holding her in front of her portrait while Adrien and Jack continued ahead. When she looked up at him, he was staring at the younger version of her. "She was amazing," he said, his voice too soft to carry to the others. "I fell in love with her almost instantly, and when she died, I missed her so badly that I went to Omega to follow her."

Shepard's heart clenched tight enough that pain shot through her chest. She opened her mouth to say something. She didn't know what, but something.

"But this woman," Garrus said, looking down at her, his hand lifting to brush her cheek with a knuckle, "she's so much more than that girl."

Shepard squeezed his hand and gave it a slight tug as she followed the others. "I was nearly thirty when we met. Hardly a girl."

He just waggled his head a little. "Age has very little to do with these things. It's more the mileage." Wrapping his arm around her, his pulled her in tight against his side. "I wish you'd worn armour today." He narrowed his eyes at her when she chuckled.

"I'm glad I didn't. We're in a hospice, come to visit someone I don't think offers us the slightest threat." She pulled away to go through the doors, stopping so suddenly when she entered that Garrus ran into her back.

The day room may have been the single most breathtaking piece of architecture Shepard had or would ever witness. Nearly round, the room stretched at least thirty metres in front of them. The wall behind them matched the rest of the building's decor—carved wood panelling and rich wallpaper—but in front of them … . Thick metal beams curved up the walls, shaped and twined to resemble leafy vines arching into a dome fifteen metres above their heads. The gaps between the vines and leaves was filled with light green glass, the entire room shimmering as the rain trickling over the glass.

"Wow," Shepard sighed, "I can sure see why the rain is so popular from in here. It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen." She glanced up at Garrus who nodded without turning away from staring, open-mouthed.

"Your party usually sits over by the bookcases," the attendant said. She pointed toward a group of four large, leather wingbacks clustered on a thick carpet. Bookcases filled with books as richly appointed as the rest of the room stood along the wall behind them.

"Thank you." Shepard glanced over at Adrien, who nodded and led his people off to one side. Taking a deep breath, she slipped her hand back into Garrus's and smiled at the edgy, suspicious biotic. "Jack, stay with the primarch for a moment. I'll call you if I need you."

She grinned, wincing a little as her lips trembled, giving away the elcor ballerina doing pirouettes in her belly. She had no idea why her nerves were so frantic. It wasn't like she was stepping into the unknown … well, the complete unknown, anyway. Maybe she was just nervous for what it would mean to Jack and Garrus if her guess proved correct.

Garrus squeezed Shepard's hand and looked down at her, his expression clearly asking about the reason her hand trembled within his grip. She merely pressed her lips together and nodded toward the chairs. Time to stop stalling, and hope she was right.

Taking the long way around, Shepard circled the small cluster of chairs, not wanting to sneak up on their contact from behind. When she stepped around the last chair, a broad smile pushed through her tentative one. White familia notas stood out against dark hide within the shadows. Garrus gasped in recognition, but she held him back.

"Well, hello there, Spectre," Shepard said, even as she backed up to look over at the door. "I brought you a little something." Lifting a hand, she waved Jack over.

…

_Shepard nodded. "I heard you ask Garrus about Nihlus down on the planet." Again, the soft smile diffused Jack's anger before she could even start to ramp it up. "I didn't realize that you knew him." She blew on her tea for a moment before taking a sip. "Were you close?"_

_Jack sighed, rolling her mug between her hands without drinking. "Yeah. Sort of, I guess. He arrested me twenty-seven times. He was the one who came after me for most of the crap I told you about." She bared her teeth in a bitter smile. "Guess I should've been honoured that the council thought it would take a Spectre to bring me in." She shrugged. "Anyway, when I smashed that turian space station, Kryik was waiting when I crawled out of the wreckage. He gave me a choice. Purgatory or make a change."_

_Shepard scowled, the story not lining up with what she knew. When Jack glanced up, brown eyes glassy and shuttered, her gut twisted, and she knew Jack's version would prove the real one. Shepard knew the weight of grief that stared back at her from Jack's eyes far too well._

_She stared down into her tea, trying to ease the pressure of her questions. "We took you out of Purgatory. How did that happen? The records just say that you were arrested and sent there."_

_Jack slammed down her mug. "You know what? Fuck you, Shepard. You're nosing into things that don't concern you, so just fuck the hell off." The biotic shoved the tea away from her and slouched down into her chair, arms locking across her chest. Still, she didn't get up. After a second, she shook her head. "Fucking idiot and his stupid old ratty blanket and his stupid fucking gentle hands." She swiped at her cheeks, then glanced up, her stare darting to meet Shepard's for a half second before flitting away._

" _When he died, you turned yourself in, didn't you?" Shepard nodded as if Jack had admitted it. "You thought it would be easier to be frozen than to have to live with the pain of losing him."_

" _It was all just bullshit, Shepard. The universe only gives you good shit to lull you into a false sense of security, and then it rips it all out from under you." Jack threw a hand toward the door to the battery. "You should remember that." She shoved herself away from the table and stood. "Thanks for the tea and the knife to the guts, Shepard. We should do this again … never."_

**_…_ **

Jack stomped over, her heavy boots scuffing across the polished floor. "What?" the young biotic groused but in a harsh whisper. She stopped facing Shepard, her hip cocked and arms slammed down over her chest. "Seriously, Shepard, why the fuck did you drag me all the way out to the end of east goddamn nowhere? I'm beginning to lose my winning charm and ladylike fucking demeanor."

"Demeanor?" Shepard chuckled, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to tell Jack to turn around, but a soft, slightly slurred voice cut her off.

"Jacqueline."

The gently spoken name froze Jack so still that she could have been chiselled from stone.

Terrified, glassy eyes stared into Shepard's, Jack's expression begging to know if she'd finally lost her mind completely or the voice had been real. "Shepard?"

Shepard snagged Jack's hand as the young woman reached out, grasping as if trying to find a solid hold as the floor crumbled out from under her. The admiral smiled and nodded. "Turn around, Jack, it's fine. You're okay." Shepard waggled her head a little. "Well, you will be." When Jack remained rooted to the floor, Shepard grasped her shoulders and eased her around. "This is why I asked you to come with me."

The form sitting crookedly in the wingback's shadow shifted, the movement painful to witness as he tried to straighten in the chair.

Jack took a single step forward, the toe of her boot catching on the edge of the carpet and bringing her to a stumbling halt. She opened her mouth, but the only sound that came out was a bleat of agonized confusion, a sound Shepard knew all too well. Her heart had made it more than once.

"Hello, my girl." Talons reached out of the shadow, the hand shaking with a heartbreaking palsy. He leaned forward, the white wings of his familia notas still bright against the red-brown hide. their noble sweep defying his head's awkward list to the left, the droop of the eyelid and mandible on that side.

Jack let out another soft bleating sound, then she cocked a hip, her arms crossing over her chest, throwing up that wall again. "You dumbass," she said, her voice growling. "You goddamned, fucking dumbass." She closed the distance a single step. "Five years." Another step. "Five fucking years you've let me think you were dead."

Nihlus opened his mouth, but the blade of Jack's hand sliced the air, cutting him off. She closed another step, and for a half-second Shepard thought she'd made a terrible mistake and prepared to leap in and protect the very obviously disabled Spectre.

"Did you think that I wouldn't … ." That time Jack cut herself off, a sob that seemed to start at her feet breaking loose, a wave of sorrow that completely shattered the Jack that Shepard had met on Purgatory three years earlier.

Trusting the moment, Shepard eased back, watching with her heart in her throat. Tears broke free as she watched the young woman fold down onto her knees before the Spectre, gentle sobs of sorrow and relief and joy shaking Jack's lithe frame to the core.

As Shepard had just a few days before, Jack bowed to the floor before the torin she loved, her arms wrapping around the Spectre's ankles as she pressed her cheek against his foot.

Nihlus leaned down, his trembling hand stroking Jack's head. "Oh, my girl. I'm not the torin I was. You're so young." He collapsed back in his chair, exhaustion slumping him down into the heavy leather. "Rise, please, Jacqueline." When Jack pushed herself up onto her knees, he touched her cheek, brushing away her tears. "I don't want you chained to me out of obligation."

Jack grabbed his hand in both of hers. "You dumbass. Obligation? How fucking stupid … ?" She pressed his hand to her cheek. "I love you. You brought me to life, dragging me out of the shit existence that I called survival." Crawling up next to his knees, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. "Obligation. Seriously, Kryik, sometimes you are just the biggest idiot in the universe."

Shepard looked up at Garrus, her heart feeling too large and full to remain inside her chest as she reached up to touch his cheek, brushing away tears she knew were of a very complicated sort of joy. When he looked down at her, she pressed her lips together in an understanding smile. He wrapped his arm around her and led her far enough away to offer Nihlus and Jack some privacy.

"You knew it was Nihlus?" he whispered, pulling her into his arms.

"I suspected, but I didn't want to say, just in case." She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. "They're beautiful together in a cussing, ornery sort of way."

He let out a long breath. "When I watched them together, I knew that I couldn't settle for anything less." He nuzzled her hair. "Who knew I'd get so lucky?"

"Am I to assume," Adrien whispered from behind Shepard, startling her, "that we're witnessing another family reunion?"

Shepard glanced at the primarch and nodded, then laid her head back on her husband's shoulder. "Yeah, we are. Slowly, the pieces of the broken universe are coming back together, and it's a very, very good day."

"The sort of day that makes everything we suffered so very worth it," Garrus agreed, squeezing her tight.

Shepard nodded as she watched Jack and Nihlus embrace. So very worth it, indeed.

* * *

 

(A-N: Two chapters in less than a month ... shocking, I know. Happy New Year to those few who have stuck with these kids through the dry spells. *hugs*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a story in my account called As You Wish, which is the story of Jack and Nihlus prior to Eden Prime. It's still in progress, because I am writing far too many stories, but those two crazy kids make me silly happy. A warning, however, that it is explicit and there is lots of bad language because it's ... well ... Jack. :D
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/933971/chapters/1818076


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nihlus met the primarch's gaze and smiled. "This little device creates both positive and negative mass effect fields large enough to manipulate the gravity for an entire cruiser." A pleased shrug answered Adrien's surprise. "In addition, the gravity throughout the field's influence remains constant. It's unlike anything we've ever encountered."

**August 19, 2188**

Garrus watched Jack and Nihlus, his heart finding solace in the universe's ability to mete out its own justice in the fullness of its own time. When he'd set out to prove Saren was a traitor to the council, it had been about taking vengeance for the life of a friend. It was about striking out for Jack as well when she just disappeared. However, when he joined up with Shepard and discovered the true monsters behind the curtain, he saw any chance to avenge Nihlus go up in smoke. Even Saren had turned out to be a victim in the end.

However, while watching Jack and Nihlus reconnect, he saw that sometimes justice arrived in a much gentler form. It was something Shepard had tried to show him more than once. He wrapped his arms around his wife and held her. He'd spent a lot of nights lying awake, feeling guilty for not moving faster and reaching Jack before someone else told her about Nihlus, but in that too, the universe appeared to know what it was doing. Though their roads hadn't proven easy, both he and Jack ended up exactly where they needed to be.

"As wonderful as it is to see my girl again," Nihlus said, his ancient, weary voice breaking through Garrus's thoughts, "you came here because of the generator." He smiled and held out his hand to Garrus. "It's good to see you again, old friend."

Garrus gripped the weak talons between both of his hands. "And you, Nihlus." He chuckled, struggling for words. "I suppose I should have guessed you wouldn't go down easily." He tipped his head toward Shepard. "My Spectre makes a habit out of defying death."

"It's something they cover on the first day of training," Nihlus said. He gestured for them to sit in the other chairs. Garrus seated himself next to Shepard, Adrien across from them. Jack remained kneeling next to Nihlus's right leg, her arm wrapped around his calf.

"Have you heard from Grenta or Alessia?" Nihlus asked, a thin reed of longing and sorrow threaded through the question. When his stare locked onto Garrus's, it remained keen and piercing, the mind behind all the tremors and weakness as sharp as it had ever been. It eased the grip wrapped around Garrus's throat to see that despite the blows Nihlus had taken, the heart and soul of his friend remained intact.

Garrus's mandibles dropped as he answered the question. "No, I'm sorry, although I got a message from Grenta before the invasion. She said she was returning to Surkesh, so there's a chance she made it through."

A crooked grin tilted across Jack's face as she reached up to press her palm against Nihlus's chest. "The blue hooker was tough, and if she went down, you know she went in a blue blaze of glory." Garrus grinned and shook his head. The relationship between Jack and Alessia, Nihlus's best friend and fellow Spectre, had formed out of a mutual delight in tormenting and insulting one another.

Nihlus pressed his talons over Jack's for a moment before his hand slipped down to his lap, and Jack settled back in against his leg. "Where did you find the generator?" the Spectre asked, redirecting the conversation to their purpose.

The primarch sat forward a little. "In the mansion of a batarian slaver." Adrien opened his attache case and removed the small device, the diamond-like gears whirring in the palm of his hand. "The property passed through several inhabitants before we raided it. Kahiral Balak was one of the previous occupants. Do you know what it is?" he asked, his eyes never turning away from the small, glistening miracle.

"Not precisely," Nihlus admitted, "but we were able to determine that it generated gravitational fields and was very likely part of a larger whole. When it came into my possession, I took it to Surkesh to a scientist I trusted beyond reproach." A crooked smile twisted his face, highlighting the paralysis in his left side. "He ran a great many tests on it, coming to the conclusion it was likely used within a space faring vessel." The Spectre's hand crept out a little as if the generator called to him.

Maybe it did. It certainly seemed to reach out to both Adrien and Shepard. He supposed he hadn't been in the best frame of mind to feel anything from it the only time he'd been close to it. That hadn't been a banner day for him.

"It's tiny. It must have been one of many," Adrien said. He slid to the edge of the chair to place it in Nihlus's hand.

Nihlus rested the generator on his thigh, his hand shaking too hard to hold it. Jack reached up to hold it for him, the tenderness of the gesture tightening the grip around Garrus's throat. The Spectre traced a talon along one line of the little machine. It really was amazingly tiny, some of the gears so small that the only proof of their existence was the glint of light as they moved. Watching the play of colour and light pulled him in, a sense of complete peace filling him. He grinned, just a tiny flick of mandibles. Was the emotion his or the machine's? He tore his stare from the machine and focused back on Nihlus.

Nihlus met the primarch's gaze and smiled. "This little device creates both positive and negative mass effect fields large enough to manipulate the gravity for an entire cruiser." A pleased shrug answered Adrien's surprise. "In addition, the gravity throughout the field's influence remains constant. It's unlike anything we've ever encountered."

Adrien sat back, his face drawn into a serious, almost worried frown that Garrus understood all too well. Even with current mass effect technology, ships had to use a large number of networked mass effect generators in order to keep gravity constant from one metre to the next and one deck to the next. Even so, gravity fluctuated all over the ship, just in small enough increments as to become unnoticeable. Turian ships had what their crews called spirit lines—areas where two or more fields intersected and threw off the gravity enough to register. The name came from the eerie, off-kilter feeling that slithered along a person's spine if they stood over a line for any length of time.

Nihlus coughed, the sound barely more than a rough sigh, and sagged a little in his chair. "Dr. Sitiks studied the device under a high powered microscope and discovered that the gears have not been carved or tooled in any way, nor are they fastened together using any known method." The Spectre paused, his voice breathy and exhausted, the sound like a knife in Garrus's guts. "Apologies," Nihlus said, slumping, "I tire easily." He pressed a control on his omnitool, and within twenty seconds, a turian attendant hurried over, a plastic cup of water in his hand.

Garrus watched a range of emotions spirit across Jack's face as the aide helped Nihlus drink, the Spectre's palsy too severe to drink on his own. Garrus winced internally, making certain that nothing showed on his face. But for the narrowest grace, that could have been him after Omega.

When the attendant straightened, Jack stood. "Show me," she said, her tone allowing for no argument. The attendant didn't offer any, nor did he draw any attention to it as he quickly showed Jack how to help Nihlus drink without drowning him. Jack took the cup of water and set it on the side table then settled back to her spot, placing the mechanism back on the Spectre's thigh.

Nihlus stroked a hand over her hair, then looked up at the rest of them. "Instead of being tooled and assembled, the mechanism is made up of trillions of microscopic crystalline carbon life forms. They appear to have come together to form the device as a piece. And, as I'm sure you've felt, it possesses rudimentary sentience. It is aware of its surroundings and seems to be able to read the intentions of whoever comes in contact with it. It, or more properly, they can create empathic fields to influence the emotions of the people around them."

"Where did you find it?" Jack asked, twisting to look up at him, her large brown eyes still glassy, her skin pale beneath the tats. The expression on her face, one of being torn between elation and disbelief, set loose a nest of snakes in Garrus's gut. Balak had taunted Shepard with the happiness and peace that she'd found in post-war life. The bastard kept telling her that her life was all turning out too perfectly to be true. He understood the fear that she'd felt, the same fear that Jack was feeling; he shared it. How often had he heard Shepard say that if it was all a dream, it was a beautiful one? Somedays, it felt too beautiful to be believed.

"I found it when I raided a pirate base in the terminus," Nihlus answered, pulling Garrus out of his thoughts. "They claimed to have found it lying out on the planet's surface. I tried to get the location out of them, because I suspected that the rest of whatever it belonged to was out there." He shook his head, and drew his hand back from the device. "They never did tell me. I ran scans of the planet's surface, but the generator doesn't show up on scans unless it wants to. An entire dreadnought could be out there, and we wouldn't find it unless it wanted us to."

"Did you have it when we met?" Jack asked, the planes of her face stiffening. Garrus could see the wheels turning, the biotic trying to figure out how much of Nihlus's life had been a complete secret from her. Guilt snapped at the back of his neck. How many secrets did he still keep from Shepard?

"It was on Surkesh." Nihlus stroked her cheek with a talon. "I was going to pick it up and continue its journey after Eden Prime." A thin smile turned to Shepard and then Garrus. "Dr. Sitiks reported that the most commonly felt emotion connected with the device was loneliness." Nihlus's shoulders rolled in a slight shrug to answer the incredulity that met that claim. "He called it a profound sense of homesickness, so he conducted an experiment."

"An experiment?" Adrien asked. He shifted a little in his chair. "I've felt the influence the device can have, but to actually assign it emotional intelligence?" He glanced at Shepard as if looking for either confirmation in his denial or for someone to indicate that they'd slipped as far into madness as he had. "If it can think and communicate, how can no one have seen anything like this before?"

Shepard lifted her fingers off her chair arm, asking Adrien to give Nihlus the benefit of the doubt. "So, what experiment did he conduct?"

"He used a galaxy map and placed the device on different systems. It's emotional output remained the same, except when it was placed on the Hades Gamma cluster. He zoomed in, and did the same for each system, then each planet, and homed in on Ploba." Nihlus grinned as if he knew how crazy it sounded. "He concluded that it wanted to be taken to Ploba."

Shepard shifted forward in her chair, bracing her forearms against the padded leather chair arms. "Ploba?" A quick, breathy chuckle punctuated the word. "The Jupiter Brain?" Her eyebrows scrunched down over her nose as her head canted a little to the right. The intensity of her expression made it nearly impossible for Garrus to resist kissing her. How was it possible to love someone more every moment?

"The Jupiter Brain," Nihlus repeated. "No one has ever been able to reach the megastructures due to the atmospheric pressure. I'm not entirely sure that taking the object there will achieve anything." He lifted the device, staring into the whirling structures as he turned it. "But it is a mystery begging to be solved."

Shepard turned to Garrus, her hand reaching out to wrap around his before she looked back to Nihlus. "We've got girls to get settled in our new home, and classes starting at the academy, but as soon as things calm down we'll head to Ploba and see if anything happens." A brilliant smile met Adrien's raised brow plate, asking for his indulgence. "Can't hurt to take it there and see if anything happens." She reached out, her smile softening when Nihlus placed the device on her palm.

"We live in a galaxy torn to ribbons," she said, holding it up … a little like an offering. Well, enough like one to send a shudder down Garrus's spine. "We know for sure the Leviathan are out there, and we'd be fools to believe they have no plans to take advantage of our weakness. Even if they aren't going to cause trouble, the TPR is still out there, as are the Apostles of the Blessed Scion." Her hand settled into her lap, her shoulders lifting and dropping in a fatalistic sort of shrug. "We're as vulnerable as hell, and we can't afford to turn our noses up at any technology that might help shore up our defenses." She leaned forward and passed the device back to Adrien.

Adrien nodded. After a moment, he slipped the device into his attache case.

A silence fell between the five of them, teetering back and forth on the edge of awkwardness. Garrus felt it from the outside, having no expectations wrapped up in the small device and its purpose. He hadn't come hoping to find answers the way Shepard and Adrien had. So where they waited, hoping something materialized to justify a long trip out of their way, he fulfilled his entire purpose just by squeezing Shepard's hand.

"So," Shepard said, turning on Nihlus, "since we've accomplished all we can on the device, it's time to turn our focus on you." A warm smile drained some of the sharpness from her words. "We thought you were dead on Eden Prime."

The Spectre nodded. "When my vitals signs crashed, the automatic beacon went off and the nearest pick up team had me into stasis and off Eden Prime within minutes. Saren's bullet lodged in my skull after carving its way through my motor function center. Long story short, more than three cycles, many surgeries, and endless physiotherapy, here is what remains."

Jack twisted up onto her knees to look Nihlus in the face. "Do you have a motorized chair?"

He nodded. "I do, but I need help to do everything, Jacqueline, including getting in and out of it." Pressing a hand against her cheek, he sighed. "It takes a staff to see to my needs."

The biotic let out a soft curse. "At least part of that is being trapped in here like an invalid. You need to get out into the world and start living again." Jack shrugged as if that amounted to a mere detail. "Shepard has offered me a job at the academy," she said, tossing a smartass grin over her shoulder at the admiral. "The hospital there is the best in the galaxy, and they've got rehab facilities out the ass." She shot another glance at Shepard. "Probably some work somewhere for a Spectre, isn't there?"

Shepard grinned as she nodded. "Probably."

Jack nodded and leaned in to kiss Nihlus, the girl Garrus had met so many cycles before returning, a miracle he didn't think he'd ever see. "I know it's not going to be easy," she whispered, "and I know that I have no idea how hard it's going to be. All I know is that I'm not living anywhere without you, and they really don't want me living here. I don't do silent."

Nihlus just shook his head and wrapped his arm around her, holding her against him. "I don't want you to give up your life, Jacqueline. Not to look after me."

She kissed him again. "I won't be. I'll have my classes, and I'll come home to you." She jabbed a thumb at Garrus and Shepard. "That's all they do. Go to work and look after their family. It seems to make them happy."

The attendant who'd brought Nihlus his drink earlier, appeared again. "My apologies, but Spectre Kryik has an appointment in ten minutes. I'm afraid, visiting hours are over."

Garrus nodded to the torin, then stood, pulling Shepard up with him.

"Go," Nihlus caressed Jack's hair and then her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, my beautiful girl, and you have responsibilities. We will see one another soon."

The young woman nodded but wrapped her arms around him again. "Damn right we will, and when I come back here, you'd better have your bags packed because you owe me a life." She pulled away and stood, but then leaned right back down to kiss him. Nodding at his chair, she said, "And this … this doesn't let you out of the promises you made."

Garrus glanced down as Shepard's hand slipped into his, smiling when he saw the glassy sheen over her eyes. Bending down, he nuzzled her hair. "Let's get home," he whispered, "and get our girls settled." When she nodded, he reached out, laying a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Come on, Jack. The faster we get ourselves home, the faster we can get everyone sorted and where they need to be."

Jack nodded, but then wrapped her arms around Nihlus's neck. "Just so you know, I probably won't ever forgive you for letting me think you were dead, and I'm never going to let you forget it." She kissed him and pulled away, clinging to his talons as long as she could. "I love you, you big idiot. I'll message tonight and be back to get you as soon as I can."

Nihlus pressed his brow to Jack's temple. "I love you as well, and I'll be waiting for your call, Jacqueline. I have missed you."

Seeing that no one was going to move without being moved, Garrus ushered Shepard out of the small island of chairs, then returned to take Jack by the shoulders. Easing her out as well, he kept an arm around her, guiding her through the building to the car. "We'll come and get him as soon as we can, Jack," he assured her, trying to ease the pain she must be feeling at having to leave within an hour of having found Nihlus again. If it were he and Shepard, he didn't think he could have done it.

"Damn right we will." She pulled away from him and strode to the car. "Shepard's going to get us a completely accessible apartment, and all the physiotherapists and home care workers he needs as part of my teaching contract."

Shepard bowed deeply, a teasing smile playing across her lips. "Yes, ma'am, right away." She wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders. "I told you that I'd add you to my collection."

Jack shrugged off Shepard's arm. "Get off me, you fucking weirdo. You're creeping me out." And yet, as she ducked into the back seat, he saw a wide grin on her face.

Garrus paused to help Shepard out of her rain poncho. "Get in the car, weirdo," he said, grinning down at his wife.

Instead, Shepard stood on her toes to kiss him. He returned the kiss, eyes closing, the arm that wasn't holding the umbrella snaking around her, moulding her to his body.

"Hey! Stop fucking around and let's go!" Jack settled into the car, grumbling about people having lives to get on with.

Garrus nuzzled Shepard's lips and pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes for a moment. Her eyes had always been open windows to everything she was feeling. Glancing over Shepard's shoulder into the car, he dropped his voice down into his chest to give it a suggestive growl. "If we were fucking around, you'd know it, little girl."

Satisfaction sparked a wide grin as Jack sputtered, the visible patches of skin turning a bright red. When she saw his smile, she flipped her middle finger at him. "Gross. Just get in the damned car."

Shepard laughed and gave him a quick kiss. "You're so bad." She tipped her head toward the front seat. "Drive? Jack and I need to start making some arrangements if we want to have Nihlus out of here and on Palaven within the week."

He nodded and released her to climb in next to Jack.

"Hey! It's crowded enough back here!" The biotic refused to move until Shepard gave her a shove.

"Get over, you foul-mouthed bitch," his mate said, a delighted laugh greeting Jack's very foul response. Ignoring the litany of complaints, Shepard pushed her way in and activated her omnitool. "Oh, quit your whining," she said, glancing up. "We have two hours to get as much done as we can."

Garrus climbed into the front seat and closed the car, starting it up as he listened to them muttering back and forth about who was the bigger pain in the ass. He was about to tell them both to shut it when Shepard took a deep breath, signaling the end to the war.

"Okay, first things first," she said. "We need the hospice to transfer all his records to Dr. Chakwas so she knows what sort of arrangements she needs to make."

Garrus set the car to return to Nos Astra, then settled down into his seat and closed his eyes, content to listen and relax. A warm, beautiful peace washed over him. His family was going home. A feverish, alcohol-addled dream born in the sleepless stink of Omega's night cycle was finally coming true.

For a moment, terror spiked through his contentment as old whispers drifted out of the past.

_"Why did you ask about seeing your life flash in front of your eyes, Shepard?"_

_"Because it's been a beautiful dream."_


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house embraced him the moment Garrus stepped through the door. As Lenka and Kaidan—Mercy giggling in his arms—ran around, exploring every new corner, Shepard and Sol unpacked the groceries Garrus hauled in from the car. Even though it had been less than an hour, the space felt as though it had sheltered his family for cycles. A simple beauty breathed through the sounds of his family settling into their domin, their movement like waves lapping over warm sand. They formed a sea he'd dreamed of drowning in for such a very long time.

**August 21, 2188**

The house embraced him the moment Garrus stepped through the door. As Lenka and Kaidan—Mercy giggling in his arms—ran around, exploring every new corner, Shepard and Sol unpacked the groceries Garrus hauled in from the car. Even though it had been less than an hour, the space felt as though it had sheltered his family for cycles. A simple beauty breathed through the sounds of his family settling into their _domin_ , their movement like waves lapping over warm sand. They formed a sea he'd dreamed of drowning in for such a very long time.

Part of the familiarity, Garrus assumed, came from the fact that the first floor had been rebuilt to match the house he'd grown up in. At least some of the rest because Gira had taken such care in ensuring that it was ready to move into, right down to toys in the girls' rooms and a gorgeous collection of books on the library shelves—they must have belonged to his parents, but he didn't recall any of the titles. In addition, dishes and cookware filled the cupboards, and their clothes lined the closets and dressers.

Not a single detail had been neglected, and now his girls slept in the center of the large bed in the master suite, his _filiam_ and her _dilan_ sat curled up in front of a vid in the front room, and his mate … his beautiful mate fussed somewhere upstairs, trying to make everything perfect for her family.  Nesting, humans called it.

Garrus stepped under the strong, steaming stream of water and let out a heavy moan of pleasure. Water pressure … hot water … it felt almost indecent when so much of the galaxy could barely manage clean drinking water. He needed to get working on fixing that first thing the next morning. Shepard's foundation had the right idea about how to rebuild. They needed to help the owners of vital industry and agriculture get their plants back up and running, build on-site housing and facilities for their people. Internal forces … hell, even external forces needed to be called in to clear the land and aid in construction.

More and more refugees poured into Cipritine every day seeking hope, and so far the city possessed none to offer them. He chuckled and turned his face up into the spray. Damn if it wasn't his job to change that. Although he didn't intend to go into work until they got Lenka settled into Terion Victus's school and a nanny hired, he could start the process from home. It would take days of planning and just taking notes, and at home he'd have access to his greatest source of brilliant ideas.

"Solving the problems of turian-kind?"

Speaking of. He turned toward the voice, and raised a brow plate. "How do you know I wasn't just falling asleep standing here?"

Shepard grinned as she unzipped her hoodie. "You think after all this time, I don't know that face? That face is the considering serious issues face." She slipped out of the sweater and hung it from the back of the door. "So, what's the issue that you're currently trying to fix?" She pulled her t-shirt over her head and hung it as well. Pausing part way through unfastening her trousers, she looked up at him. "Well?"

Garrus grinned and shrugged. "I honestly don't remember."

Shepard grinned and finished stripping them off. "A little skin wipes your mind, does it?" She shook her head and turned away to hang them up.

Garrus closed the three steps between them and slipped his arms around her. "When it's this skin, absolutely. Every single time." He nuzzled along her shoulder as his hands slid back around to unclasp her bra. "Did you notice where we are?" he whispered and then drew a long line around the shell of her ear with the point of his tongue.

Shepard chuckled and backed into him, rubbing against his plates. "We do have a long-honoured tradition to maintain, I suppose."

Thumb talons just grazing her skin, he slid the straps down her arms, then tossed the bra in the general direction of the hook. "We do, and it would be a shame not to break in the new shower on the first night." A slow, rolling purr rumbled through his subvocals as he tucked his talons beneath the waist of her panties, spreading them to cover her soft, rounded backside. He loved how it filled his palms, the muscles flexing as she moved.

When the panties fell free to pool around her feet, she stepped out of them, flicking them into a corner with her toes. When she tried to turn to face him, he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her in tight. "I've got you, wife," he said, chuckling as he led her under the water.

A sense of newness suffused their touch, new but not awkward as things had been when they first made love. That night, she'd been so generous, stripping away all the pressure and helping him figure things out every step of the way. They'd merely held one another for the longest time, Shepard anchoring him in his new reality. Some fevered, furious part of him believed that he'd been killed just before Shepard arrived at his base on Omega and everything after had been fantasy. It hadn't mattered of course, as long as they were together, he was content.

"Hey, husband." Shepard's warm palms wrapped around his face. "Where are you?" She smiled up at him, concerned and loving. Spirits, he adored the way she looked at him.

"Right here, just thanking the spirits that you arrived on Omega when you did." He leaned into her left hand and let his eyes close. "That we're here and together with our family."

Shepard's lips pressed against his mouth, then he felt her breath warm on his hide as she whispered, "Tell me something true, Garrus. Tell me something hard. Please." Her tone cajoled without pressure or manipulation, asking without skirting into making a demand or begging. She always knew just how to angle things.

Exhaling, long and slow, he leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her. "The hard things scare the _tarc_ out of me, Shepard. The hard things …." He sucked in a ragged breath. "I'm ashamed of most of them, and I don't want you to look at me with those images—that Garrus—inside your head."

Shepard pressed her body tight against his, her skin so very warm and slick against his hide. "There is only one Garrus, love. He's right in front of me." Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him in. "Trust me for one moment." She kissed him; her mouth tasted like rain.

Diving into the feel and taste and scent of her, Garrus drew in a long breath. "I was relieved when C-Sec gave me their ultimatum and demanded that I resign," he said, the plates of his mouth brushing her lips. "I didn't want to fight, not without you." She kissed him again, then turned her cheek to press against his mandible. Leaning into that touch, he whispered, "I just wanted to be wherever you were. Omega seemed like the fastest way to get there."

She nodded, the touch on his neck tender as her fingers caressed their way down the line of plates to his throat. He waited for her to speak, but she simply pulled back far enough to look into his eyes. Beads of water splashed off her sun-roughened, freckled skin, rolling down her cheeks thick enough that he couldn't tell if tears fell amongst them. The gaze that met his didn't hold any disappointment or contempt or pity, just love and acceptance.

"I'm still right here, Garrus." She stroked his cheek, then along his mandible with the backs of her fingers. "Right here." Her lips trembled for a moment, the only sign of any distress caused by his words. "And you're still the sun in my sky. You always will be, no matter what."

Garrus slid one hand down under her backside, lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him, her thighs squeezing his waist, firm and yet so gentle … like the woman. He used the word all the time, but each time it hit him anew that his Commander Shepard had saved the galaxy while somehow managing to keep her heart unhardened … open and giving.

Leaning back a little, she slipped one hand between them, easing open the folds of her sex so that the edges of his plates pressed between them. Her thumb brushed along that seam, a sultry smile looking up at him, teasing, when they moved easily under her touch.

"I want to feel you inside me, husband," she whispered, catching the side of her bottom lip between her teeth as he began to emerge, sliding easily into her slick warmth. His belly flipped at the words. Spirits, was there anything sexier than his wife saying how badly she wanted him?

His eyes closed as he leaned back, supporting them both against the wall, the hot water pounding down on them. Spirits, she felt so damned good. Everything about her was softness and delicious pressure and—

A sharp gasp met the heavy roll of her muscles as she gripped him in a slow wave, wrapping herself tightly around him, not moving other than her sex gripping his. She moaned low and throaty, pulsing around him harder but no faster as he began to seat, filling her. When he rocked his hips back, she gripped him tight and shook her head, meeting his eyes with longing.

"No," she said, "I don't need you to fuck me, I just need to feel you. Just want to … make up one … be one …." A tiny gasp of annoyance escaped at her inability to say what she felt, but he understood. He always understood what she meant even when her tongue tied itself in knots. Shepard's brows rose even as she ducked her head a little … the hint of shyness setting his heart pounding against his keel. "Is that all right?"

He boosted her in his arms and swooped in, answering her with a kiss that promised they were always one, even when they were a thousand light years apart. They had been since the day they met, even if they hadn't realized it until later. He'd realized it the moment … .

No. He turned his face into his wife's neck and breathed her in, focusing on the sensation of her full breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hard as they caressed him with her every breath. He shifted a little, earning another lusty moan as he moved inside her. She pressed her cheek against his temple.

"You keep that up, you're going to make me change my mind about making this more active." She chuckled and leaned into him, her pelvis lifting a little as she squeezed his length. "Damn, husband, you feel so good."

He lifted his head and kissed her, tongue teasing hers until she arched against him, lifting herself up, straining to get closer. His arms pulled her in, moulding her to him the best he could. She nipped the end of his tongue, lightly and without sting, and smiled against his mouth, panting hard.

"Okay, I take it back," she said, her chuckle so filled with desire that he withdrew and thrust home just from pure lust … pure desire to drive those panting breaths into cries.

"Oh, lord, yes," she whispered, her muscles all gripping him tight as he withdrew again. After a couple more, she wriggled. "Let me down, Garrus." She slipped from his hands when he withdrew, turning her back to him the moment her feet touched the floor. "I want you to have some leverage," she said, taking his hands. "If you're going to fuck me, I want to walk funny for three days."  She wrapped them around her waist, then leaned into the wall, bracing herself with one hand while holding herself open with the other.

Gripping her tight, he thrust, letting her gasps and muffled cries spur him on, harder and faster, until they both gasped for breath, and she stiffened, biting down on the heel of her hand to stifle her wanton calls of blissful satiation. He pulled her up into his arms, holding her, his hand pressed flat just above her sex as she dissolved into shuddering spasms.  He smiled, moaning into the curve of her neck as she bucked within his grasp.

And as always happened, when his mate's body gave itself over to pleasure and need—for him—his responded in kind. The taste of bitter iron flooded his mouth. He didn't know whether it was the yearning to mark that caused it, or if the change prompted the need to mark. In the end, he suspected that it didn't matter, all he knew was the need to lean in and sink a tooth into some tender part of her as he filled her with his seed. Primal or not, base or not, it was the only way he knew to act on everything she made him feel. It wasn't about ownership or territory; it was about forever and his complete devotion to her.

Shepard reached back, her hand pressing against his cheek, and opened her neck to him. He leaned in and nuzzled her, not giving in.

"Not yet," he whispered into the warm, wet flesh. Dear spirits, nothing in the galaxy felt as alive or as real to him. Was it any wonder he lived in such terror of losing her? He shoved aside the icy chill that thought sent creeping along his limbs and nuzzled her again. "I have plans." He chuckled along with the music of her laugh, eyes slipping closed as he dove down into the sensations of his wife's body in his arms.

Her warm, supple backside pressed against his plates, and her slick depths squeezed his length, urging him to join her. Obeying her summons, he came, gripping her tight through the breathless release. When the waves of intense pleasure eased, he remained inside her, still seated and hard, but reached around her for the cloth and soap.

"Mmmm," she said, a soft moan of sound, "now this is the way to shower. She wriggled her backside against him, chuckling when his entire body jerked, almost-too-intense sensation locking up his muscles.

"Stay still," he chastised, a smile lifting his mandibles and stealing any heat from his order.

"Yes, Garrus." She relaxed back against him, melting into his arms. "We should have done this facing one another," she said, letting out a soft grumble. "I can't reach you unless we separate, and I just want to keep you there forever." She glanced back and grinned as he worked the cloth down the long, sleek line of her neck to her breasts. "That wouldn't be awkward at all, would it? Having your wife literally attached at the hip all the time?"

He nipped her earlobe. "It might get a little strange in meetings at work. Otherwise, I'd be all for it." When he finally eased back into his plates, it was with both relief and regret. They bathed one another then towelled, kissing and touching, gentle and silent.

"Thank you, my love," Shepard said, taking his face between her palms again. He could still feel the water's heat radiating into his hide through her touch.

"For what, Shepard?" He slipped his hands over her shoulders and down her back, guiding her over to the thick, woven bath mat in front of the sinks. He knelt where his knees had some padding, his stupid night pants gathering to tug at his spur.

"For trusting me." She leaned in once he settled and kissed him. "I know it's not easy for you to share those things."

He merely nodded then gathered the hem of her t-shirt in his hands, lifting it over her breasts. Looking into her eyes, he cocked a brow plate, asking silently as he leaned in, his tongue slipping out to taste her nipple, just a quick flick.

Shepard smiled, less teasing and more encouraging, and nodded, one hand dropping to his cowl, the fingertips of the other brushing their way up to his fringe, playing along their length. "Your plan?" He saw her jaw clench, the commander stepping in to root her in steel and ice.

"No. Just appreciation for now." He slid his hands under her shirt to massage her sides, easing her down. "If you need to go hard and tough, need to brace for it, it can keep." He pulled her in and held her. tucking his face beneath her chin. As much as he longed to take their Dom and sub relationship to deeper places, he didn't want it to be a source of stress for Shepard. In fact, it should be the exact opposite, a source of relief and release. He could wait for her to be ready. Always.

Shaking her head, she leaned down to kiss his brow. "No, no … sorry, I'm just tired."

He pulled away and nuzzled her lips, then both breasts before pulling her t-shirt down over them. "I am too. Come on. Time to get our first night's sleep in our home." Standing, he smiled to let her know that she hadn't disappointed him. When he led her into their bedroom, their daughters remained sound asleep on their bed.

Shepard climbed in next to Lenka, curling in tight as Garrus lifted Mercy to move her to her crib next to Shepard's side of the bed. He nuzzled his daughter's brow as he cradled her in his hands, whispering soft devotions against the velvety, sweet-smelling skin. He laid her down, draped a sheet over her, then leaned on the side of the crib, just watching her sleep. Luck or chance or … hell, even a miracle had to be responsible for his life.

When Liara contacted him to tell him that Shepard was MIA after the destruction of the SR1, he'd fallen straight to the floor, cracking the plate over his left shin. He'd been working up the courage to ask her out the next time the _Normandy_ docked at the Citadel, and then she was just gone. He didn't understand it. How could she be there one moment, chugging him on the shoulder and making bad jokes about them becoming badass Spectre partners, then gone the next?

He told her the truth in the shower. Going to Omega had been a relief: a death sentence. He knew he didn't have long before he took a bullet.  They'd end up together, and he'd tell her how he felt. He drank himself stupid every night, holding his pistol in trembling hands as he tried to find the courage to end it. Now he knew why he collapsed into bed every night—sick and shaking—waking up the next morning only to drug himself to the teeth in order to kill his hangover enough to do the work.  Some part of him clung to hope, a belief that somewhere, somehow, Shepard was alive and would return.

"Daddy?"

He looked up, startled by the near darkness, the lamps low.  Menae's light streamed through the window, however, providing more than enough to see. Shepard slept next to Lenka, one arm draped over their daughter. Spirits, how long had he spent leaning over Mercy, just watching her sleep as his memory haunted Omega?

Forcing a smile that warmed into a genuine one, he crouched next to his elder daughter, brushing the backs of gentle talons over her head ridges. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, a raspy whisper drifting just between the two of them.

She smiled. "I don't know. I was, but then I woke up." She turned to look out the window. "The moon is so bright. Maybe it woke me up." A bright smile showed all her small, pointed teeth, and she closed her eyes, tilting her head toward the light. "If it did, I'm glad. It's pretty."

Garrus eased Shepard's arm from over Lenka's waist, then held out his arms. "Come on, pretty eyes, let's go take a look at it." The bright smile that broke over her face nearly shattered his heart in two, but then she slipped out from under the covers and into his embrace. Striped silver with moonlight and impossibly strong, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

One hand on the bed steadying himself, Garrus stood, carrying Lenka on his hip. They made their way through the house, only a murmur coming from Sol and Kaidan's room breaking the illusion that it was just the two of them. He smiled and took a long draught of the air, breathing home in deep.

"What do you think of the place?" he whispered to Lenka as they paused by the caman, the fire burning low, just simmering, aromatic coals.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. "I love it, Daddy. I can't believe it's ours." Pulling away far enough to meet his gaze, she stared into his eyes, adorably serious. "It's big, like the master's house, but it doesn't feel like his did. His felt angry and cold." Her face scrunched into a frown. "Like it was made of ice." She looked to him for understanding, beaming when he nodded. "This house feels like a hug."

He nuzzled her cheek. "I know exactly what you mean, pretty eyes. I love this house." He turned into the caman, making his way to the wall of double doors out into the back yard. "The second I walked through the door, I knew we were home."

The yard still showed signs of construction, the plants and turf uneven and spread out, not having had time to dig in their roots and make themselves at home, but it didn't matter. Garrus carried his daughter out to the center of what would be lawn and looked up. "That's Menae," he said, his voice hushed and primarily subvocals. "It's one of my favourite places in the entire galaxy."

Lenka leaned into him, her fingers gripping his cowl, her gaze skyward. "It's pretty." She sighed, so soulful and adult that his heart stopped, squeezed in a tight fist. "How come it's your favourite, Daddy?"

He closed his eyes, allowing the emotions and sensations of that moment pulse through him, deeper with every heartbeat. "Your mom and I were separated for a long time before the war. I missed her so much that every minute felt like forever."

Her lips pressed against his cheek, surprising him. Opening his eyes, he met her gaze and nodded at the understanding he saw there. "Like I missed you and Mommy and Kaidan," she whispered.

"Yes." He squeezed her tight and nuzzled her cheek then nodded toward the moon. "That's where she found me again, and I swore that I'd never leave her side again." One hand on the back of her head, he tucked her in against his throat. "Just like we're never going to leave your side."

She giggled and hugged his neck. "Never, ever?"

"Never, ever." As he held her, his heart beating slow and steady, fueled by love and … home … he began to sway a little, then stepped forward into a slow waltz.

"Daddy," Lenka said, giggling even as she scolded him, "we can't dance in the garden."

He pulled back to look into her eyes, his brow plates pulled down in a teasing frown, feigning dismay. "Why not?" As he asked, for the first time since the night before the battle in London, the night that Shepard had promised him that they'd retire …

_"If you're right, tomorrow is my last hopeless battle. I'll tell the Alliance that I'm done, and we'll leave death behind." She lifted her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss. "Deal?"_

_"Deal."_

… the ice crystals living inside his cells, the ones that promised one day he'd wake up to discover that it was all a dream, melted. Disguised as tears of joy, they flowed out of his bone and muscle, flushing from his system to be replaced by fire ... life pounding through his veins. They'd made it. They'd started the life he'd dreamed of and wished for. Time to get living it.

"There's no better place for dancing in the entire galaxy," he told Lenka, his throat tight as his subvocals thrummed with contentment and adoration, "because right here and right now it's just me and my beautiful girl."

"And you're happy?" she asked, her smile as bright as the moon.

"And I've never been happier," he agreed, the truth of it leaving him lightheaded.

She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, squeezing so tight that he could scarcely draw breath. "I love you, Daddy."

"And I love you, pretty eyes." Wearing a smile that refused to leave his face, Garrus held his daughter, just savouring the life that Shepard had given him as he danced Lenka to sleep under Menae's silver gaze.

* * *

(A-N: Yes, she's still alive and kicking. It took me and Garrus and Shepard some time to figure out where to go from finding Lenka. I think we've figured it out. As always, thanks so much for reading, and especially to the few people who have messaged me to ask about this story. When the reviews died off, I sort of felt like no one cared any more, which made it harder for me to care about writing it, as much as I love these kids. So, thanks for letting me know there are still a few people out there who want to see where their adventure goes. *hugs and more hugs* It was a much needed shot in the arm.)


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey." Warm hands slipped around his neck, a sweet-scented, warm cheek pressing against the side of his head. "What are you up to?"
> 
> Garrus turned to nuzzle Shepard's cheek. "Sol decided to invite the entire planet to the turram match and testimonial feast, so I'm trying to figure out how to throw a bonding ceremony for thousands of people." Pulling back and leaning to the side, he looked her over. "How are you feeling? You still look beat."

**Mahir** \- Daughter

**Patrem** \- Father (Familiar form **Pari** equivalent to dad)

**Matrula** \- Mother (Familiar form **Mari** equivalent to mom)

**Filian** \- Sister

**Drellak** \- Tall, relatively slender four legged herd animals weighing approximately 300 kilos.

**Soluvermus** \- A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven's more northern and southern regions. It is considered a delicacy.

**Fragrutis** \- A cactus native to Palaven that grows short, tough, and spiny but succulent leaves. The leaves are crushed, chopped and used as a spice in turian cooking. Very hot and spicy, adding a tart, savoury flavour.

**Siligur** \- a grain grown and harvested on many dextro worlds. It has a high protein count and is used as a primary ingredient in dextro meal bars. If ground more finely, it makes fine baking flour.

**Verro** \- Husband

**Pulkar** \- Beautiful when referring to a male. Handsome, but it goes deeper, referring to the beauty of spirit as well. Used within a close relationship. (Father, son, husband)

**Derra** \- Wife

**Caris** \- Beloved, precious, cherished

**Caman** \- Both the kitchen in the turian home and the large hearth at the center of their homes.

**Alpha Prius -** The highest level of importance and/or battle readiness in the turian military.

**October 8, 2188 (1.5 months later) (Shepard 13 weeks pregnant)**

Preparations for Solana and Kaidan's little—Garrus nearly choked to death on the thought of that word—backyard bonding ceremony took a quick swerve into the land of insanity with the quiet words, "I want the _hideth turram_ match and testimonial feast to be open to anyone who wants to come, Garrus."

Garrus stared at Sol, his jaw and mandibles hanging. Anyone who wanted to come? With the food shortage, they'd have everyone on the planet at the bonding ceremony once word spread, and people would be bringing sacks to carry home extras. He just gaped, gasping a little in lieu of words. How in the name of _buratrum_ would they feed the entire planet?

"Sol …."

His _filian_ just shook her head, mandibles snug against her mouth, eyes narrow. "This city needs hope, Garrus. We'll hold both at the Academy where there's lots of room." And then she walked away, the very image of his _mari_ at her most irascibly, gorgeously stubborn. "I'm going into work for a few hours. See you later."

If she hadn't just insisted on the impossible, Garrus might have taken a moment to bask in pride. But, she'd told him she expected him to feed the entire _mabul_ planet and then walked out.

_Happy_ filiam's _bonding day to you, Garrus Vakarian._

He stared at the closed front door for a good five minutes, trying to think of where to start. Someone to organize it all. He couldn't do it and—he glanced over at Shepard, curled up on the couch, napping with Lenka—his pregnant mate couldn't do it. Well, as a hierarch, he should be able to pull the people together. The resources … well, he'd jump off that bridge when he got to it.

Garrus wandered into the kitchen, picking up Shepard's laptop from the sideboard. He could start figuring out the whole 'how the _mabul_ am I going to do this?' while his ladies slept.

The first thing he did was message the da Silva's on Earth and ask for advice from their talented dextro chef. The chef promptly volunteered to organize everything if Garrus could get her an estimate on numbers and provide a list of suppliers.

Suppliers wouldn't be hard to locate, there being so few. The department of planetary reconstruction set up six massive farming coops around a major city on each continent. Already the crops had started coming in. A further five ranching coops managed to round up a fair number of the _drellak_ and other food animals, leaving them loose on what pasture land remained.

An industrious group living in the north had even started a _soluvermus_ farm that delivered nearly two tonnes of the hardy worms to Cipritine's emergency shelters a month. What had once been a delicacy restricted to the wealthy now boiled in pots of _fragrutis_ and _siligur_ broth over fires across the city. No one proved too picky to eat boiled earthworm, the damned things saving thousands of lives. Another two teams searched for other gathering points at the poles, the worms clustering together for defense in times of danger.

"Hey." Warm hands slipped around his neck, a sweet-scented, warm cheek pressing against the side of his head. "What are you up to?"

Garrus turned to nuzzle Shepard's cheek. "Sol decided to invite the entire planet to the _turram_ match and testimonial feast, so I'm trying to figure out how to throw a bonding ceremony for thousands of people." Pulling back and leaning to the side, he looked her over. "How are you feeling? You still look beat."

Flopping down to drape over his shoulders, she nodded and closed her eyes. "I am, but I've got grading to do, so it's some hot, honey-sweet tea and introductory engineering principles for me." Nuzzling into his neck, she let out a long breath that heated his hide. "So, Sol wants to feed the planet?"

Garrus nodded, smiling where he'd felt only helplessly overfaced an hour before; leave it to Shepard to change the subject from her health to … anything. He leaned into her, her skin feverishly warm against his hide. "I called the da Silvas and their chef took a lot of the burden off my shoulders. I just have to make sure she can source food and give her an estimate of the numbers." He lifted a hand to caress his _derra's_ cheek: definitely too warm. "I'll apply for an intern or two when I go into the office."

Extricating himself from her embrace, he turned sideways in the chair to really look at her. Black circles painted the underside of her eyes so thick that she looked as though she'd been punched. He returned his palm to her cheek then her brow. "You're really warm." A soft hiss of breath met her shrug. After so many years of striding away from bullet wounds with a little medigel and a smile, she didn't take her health nearly seriously enough.

Speaking of … the morning before he'd noticed a yellow cast to the whites of her eyes. She'd shrugged it off, but promised to go see the doctor before classes. She obviously broke that promise, because the yellow cast now soured her skin as well. "You didn't go in to see Karin, did you?"

Shepard pulled back. "No, I got to my office and ended up mobbed by cadets with questions about their midterm projects." She turned toward the counter. "I'll go see her in the morning for sure, because I'm feeling a little off."

"A little off?" The words exploded from his mouth before he could stop or soften them. "This isn't a little off, Shepard." To his eyes, the evidence that his unborn child was killing his _derra_ couldn't be more obvious. He jumped up after her, turning her back around. "You go lie down and rest. We can go over the grading together after supper." When she simply caressed her palm along the length of his mandible and turned to start the tea, he caught her arm. "I mean it. I'll make the tea. Please, Shepard, rest."

Letting out a long, musical sort of sigh, she stopped and leaned against the counter. "Mordin's nephew called. I need to go to Sur'kesh over the weekend. They've got a battery of tests awaiting me." She sagged forward until the knife edges of her hip bones pressed against the counter.

Garrus let that information sit between them while he pressed the button on the kettle and dragged the tea tray from the back of the counter. "What sort do you want?"

"The dandelion and rosehip please, with some of the clover honey." She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against his back. "Thank you, _pulkar_ _verro_."

He turned in the circle of her arms, bending to hold her close, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "We'll call to see if Karin has a spot for you tonight." He hardened his subvocals to eliminate any chance she'd believe he meant it as a suggestion. "And, depending on what Karin says tonight, we'll plan to leave for Sur'kesh the second your last class lets out on Friday."

Shepard cradled his face between her hands, her stare warm and loving, a substantial vein of worry pulsing beneath the surface. "Okay, my love. I'm not going to fight you on this; our son is far too important to me." She pressed her hands against the small swell of her belly—more pronounced than Mercy had been at the same stage, no doubt due to Shepard's bone-thinness—and leaned into him. Arms sliding back around his waist, she allowed him to take some of her weight.

Garrus accepted it and took a deep breath, his fear begging him to remind his _caris_ of the dangers inherent with becoming too attached to their unborn child. The words only made it to the back of his throat before he braced his tongue against the warning and remained silent. Shepard understood the realities facing her pregnancy as painfully as he did. No doubt the decision bearing down on them at FTL never truly left her mind: it certainly haunted her sleep, leaving her unrested and wan.

Yes, she also didn't need him to remind her that if it came down to saving her life or his child's, he needed to choose her. So, instead, he bent down, one hand slipping behind her knees, and carried her to the couch. He settled her on the deep cushions before covering her to the waist with her favourite throw.

"Do you need any more pillows?" he asked, brushing his mouth against her brow.

"I'm fine, love, thank you." She sank into the pillows stacked against the couch's arm and closed her eyes.

In the _caman_ , the kettle began to sing, its shrill whistle waking Lenka on the other end of the couch.

The little batarian looked up, a groggy smile greeting him. "You making cocoa, Daddy?" Shifting around, Lenka burrowed in against Shepard, her favourite stuffed penguin and ragged old Jane tucked in under her chin.

"I can, if you want some," he answered, turning to shut down the obnoxious noise. Damn thing always felt like a laser drill boring into one aural canal and out the other. He hit the switch, then poured

"Yes, please," the child called after him. "Thank you."

"Lots of honey, please, love. I could use the energy, however short-lived." Shepard's voice stopped Garrus mid-action. It sounded so thin that he strode back to the living room to check on her. A shaky sigh met her deeply shadowed smile. Spirits, he didn't think he'd survive the next five months even if she did.

"Karin would smack me for going for the sugar high." She followed the wan smile with pulling the throw up around her ears. Groaning softly, she wiggled down into the deep cushions. "I love this couch. Turian furniture rules."

By the time Garrus returned to the living room with the tea and a sandwich, Shepard had fallen asleep. Lenka lay curled up behind her mother's legs, watching cartoons. He passed the child her hot cocoa, and set the tea tray down on the end of the coffee table.

"Shepard?" He sat next to the tray and reached out to brush the hair from her forehead.

"Mommy's not feeling good," Lenka scolded, rolling over just enough to embrace Shepard's leg. Spirits, he loved that fierce, protective little package of joy.

Garrus smiled at the child and nodded, just a slow, sad dip of his head. "I know, pretty eyes." He tipped his head toward the vid screen. "Go ahead and watch your show."

One of Shepard's hands hung off the side of the couch, having slipped out from under the throw. He clasped her bone-thin fingers between both of his hands, but didn't try to wake her again. She needed to drink and eat, but for the moment, sleep seemed more important. He'd call Karin, ask her to bring over some fortified rations from Shepard's favourites.

As thin as Shepard had gotten during her pregnancy with Mercy, he'd never truly worried about her. He'd worried during the return trip to Palaven because she was feeding Mercy. But even with Mercy mostly eating solid food, Shepard seemed to be in freefall. Starting out so run down … she shouldn't have gotten pregnant. Not that it had been planned. _Tarc_ , with the differences in their biologies, conception should have been an impossibility.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, breathing some warmth into it for a second before nuzzling her knuckles and tucking it back under her throw. Caressing her brow, he let out a long sigh. Her skin still felt hot and damp. By all the levels of _buratrum_ …. Waiting for the weekend wasn't an option. He needed to get her to Sur'kesh the next day.

"Keep an eye on your mom, pretty eyes?" he asked, pushing himself up.

Lenka smiled, her upper lip brown with chocolate. "Okay, Daddy." The child turned around so she could see Shepard's face, taking her order seriously. "Mommy doesn't look good."

"I know. I'm going to call Dr. Chakwas, okay? You just cuddle up to Mommy and take care of her." Leaving a reassuring smile behind him, he turned to add some more fuel to the _caman_ before stepping around to the other side. He placed a call to Chakwas, who agreed to come as soon as she could find someone to cover for her. Following that with a call to his father's office, he left a message asking if someone could cover Shepard's classes for the next couple of days. Last, he left a message for Adrien, telling the primarch that he and Shepard would be leaving town early, and that he owed the primarch five credits when he returned: he'd finally broken down and applied for interns.

That done, he moved the laptop to the living room, so he could keep an eye on his _derra_ while he worked … or tried to work. Unable to concentrate, he ended up staring at Lenka's program without really seeing the animated characters cavorting across the vid screen.

He and Shepard fought like hell to get to the end of the war. From the moment she showed up on Omega, he'd fashioned this picture in his head: the two of them living in a house like the one he'd grown up in, curling up on the couch together, a roaring fire in the _caman_ , kids playing on the floor. That dream pulled him all the way through the Collectors, Shepard's time in prison, the war, and the horrific months when he didn't know if she'd survived.

His gaze slid across to Shepard, her freckles dark against her pale skin. "It was all supposed to be so much easier, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice low and mostly subvocals. "The galaxy was supposed to reward us for all the sacrifices and pain."

He stood and crossed the few metres to kneel next to the couch. Reaching up, he stroked his talons through her hair. "Shepard? Love? Wake up." He touched the teapot with his other hand to check the temperature. Still hot. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. "Come on. Wake up and drink your tea."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Garrus?"

He pressed his palm to her brow. In the last hour, warm had become decidedly fevered. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, okay?" Preparing his 'the okay was purely rhetorical' argument, he stopped mid-thought when she nodded. Shepard giving in without a fight? He leaned in to nuzzle her brow. "Okay. I'll get _Pari_ over here to sit with the girls."

"Can I call Papa?" Lenka asked, scrambling off the couch. She stared up at him with eyes that quite literally sparkled with excitement. "And can _Ama_ Gira come with him?"

Spirits, they didn't come braver than their eldest. Only Lenka's continuing night terrors reminded them of her abduction and torture. Garrus chuckled and turned the laptop to face her. "Of course. Tell them we'll be on our way as soon as they arrive."

He strode to the bedroom to grab their go-bags, tucking their hygiene kits into the outer pocket. After snatching up Shepard's pillow, he turned and stalled, staring at the two duffels sitting at the end of their bed. Almost two cycles after the war—and quite likely for the rest of their lives—they still lived like soldiers. Any belongings beyond what fit into a kit they owed to the girls or Gira, keeping their lives small and mobile. Would they ever relax and fully inhabit what their struggles had purchased?

The front door chime dragged him out of his reverie, and he grabbed up the duffels, hauling them through to the door. Even before he checked the security camera, he could tell Karin had arrived. Outside, on the step, Barl's delighted rumble gave away the identity of their guest. For reasons both mysterious and understandable, the head of the Shepard-Vakarian security detail adored Karin Chakwas: honoring her with the appropriate nickname, Snapdragon. Garrus opened the door and stepped out of the way, the doctor hurrying past.

"Where is …?" The doctor traded finishing her question for activating her omnitool when her scan-like gaze found Shepard lying on the couch. "Shepard? Wake up, Admiral." Chakwas pushed the tea tray down to the end of the table to make room for her medical bag, then sat in Garrus's spot at the end. "How are you feeling?" She tapped at the tool's interface for a couple of seconds, then shot a speedy glance at Garrus that managed to portray worry, questioning, and accusation in under a quarter second. "Shepard?" The doctor's professional mask remained nearly inscrutable, but for a pair of lines between her brows that screamed volumes.

"I've got our bags ready to go, and my _pari's_ on the way to look after the girls." Garrus passed the duffels to Barl, who stood at the threshold, looking as though his bulk held the door frame vertical. "Throw those in the car, please, Barl."

"Shepard?" Chakwas dove into her bag, pulling out a syringe. "Shepard, wake up. Can you open your eyes and look at me?" She administered the shot, then trained her stare on Garrus once again. "How long has she been jaundiced? And when did she develop the fever?"

"The yellow colouring started yesterday, but you know Shepard. She said she'd drop in to see you before her first class. When I got home today, it was … " He gestured at his mate. She'd looked very much as she did. "I noticed the fever an hour or so ago." Stepping up tight against the back of the couch, he reached down to caress Shepard's shoulder. Even in the past half hour, her condition looked worse. Sweat and livid, red splotches covered her pale skin.

Chakwas looked up at the door when Barl dominated the open space once more. "Start the car, please Barl, we've got to get the admiral to the hospital." She glanced up at Garrus between sorting another series of shots. "We don't have time to get her to Sur'kesh. She's suffering an intense allergic reaction." The doctor's gaze flicked to the door again, her anxiety level beating Garrus's heart against his rib cage like a dribbled basketball. "Barl can take Shepard and I. You follow when Herros gets here."

"Papa and Ama Gira are coming right now," Lenka announced from the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The adorable little face stared at Chakwas, slow tears running down her face, her mouth pressed closed as if holding back a question that frightened her.

The room closed in around him, the air sucked out through the open front door as he faced Chakwas's plan. Still, Garrus nodded, his neck frozen and stiff, as Barl pushed past him to lift the source of all his warmth and gravity from the couch. To counter it, he strode around and held out his arms to lift Lenka up into the cradle of one elbow.

Shepard reached out for Garrus as Barl carried her past, held in his massive arms. "Garrus? What's …?" Her eyes rolled, wild and terrified. "What's happening?"

He caught her hand, gripping it tight as he followed them to the door. "Karin and Barl are taking you to the hospital." Stepping in front of Barl, he forced the krogan to stop. Spirits, wasn't it enough for them to steal her away? Doing it without letting her family say goodbye and reassure her? He'd be six days dead and eight levels down in _buratrum_ first.

"Don't worry, _caris_ , as soon as _Pari_ and Gira get here to look after the girls, I'll be right behind you." He leaned in, then stopped to glance up at Barl, whose massive face glared at him from a quarter centimetre above Shepard's. "Lenka and I are going to kiss my _derra_ ," he informed the krogan, "so stop glaring at me like that, and move that mako attached to your shoulders out of my way."

"The doc says we've got to hurry," the krogan argued, his elbow trying to shove Garrus off to one side. "You can kiss the missus at the hospital."

"It's all right," Chakwas said, from just behind Barl's shoulder, her voice kind and reassuring. Although the tone wasn't meant for him, it slowed the frantic beating of Garrus's heart nonetheless. The doctor shot an understanding glance around the krogan's elbow. "Shepard, the hierarch, and Lenka will all feel calmer for it."

As soon as Barl's massive head moved aside, Garrus leaned in, his free hand cupping Shepard's cheek. " _Pari_ is already on his way, I'll be five minutes behind you." He kissed her, then shifted so Lenka could say her goodbye.

"Love you, beautiful," Shepard whispered then kissed her daughter's cheek. "I'll see you later. Be good for Papa."

"I will." Lenka kissed a feverish cheek, then pulled away, both arms wrapping around Garrus's neck as she clung to him. "I love you, Mommy," she called as Barl pushed past.

"I'm right behind you," Garrus repeated, not at all certain how much Shepard understood through the fever.

Chakwas gave him a tight-lipped smile, but no words of comfort as she followed, leaving the door for Garrus to close. Instead, he stood on the step, watching as they laid Shepard down in the back, and the doctor climbed in to crouch at her side. When Barl closed the vehicle, Garrus watched after it until it vanished behind the cliff to the north.

Letting out a long sigh, he looked to his daughter. "Should we go wake Mercy up from her nap and make sure she's all clean for Papa when he gets here?"

Lenka nodded, but with none of her usual lively humour. "Do you think _Ama_ Gira will bake some cookies with me? Mommy loves peanut butter cookies."

Garrus pulled his daughter in close and nuzzled her temple. "I'm sure of it, pretty eyes." He spun on his talons and strode through the door. "Make me some cookies, too?" That ought to keep her busy until he could contact home with news.

* * *

Narpin Solus clucked his tongue, the mannerism—just one of many he shared with his uncle—pulling Garrus out of a light doze. The salarian shook his head. "Options limited. Best result for the admiral: remove fetus and place in a gestation chamber."

Garrus blinked, his mind racing, trying to wake up and understand the salarian's words. Seeing nothing but impartial scientist reflected on Solus's face, he looked to Chakwas. "Gestation chamber?" His mandibles flicking low and tight to his mouth.

Chakwas made a low, unhappy sound. "The child's odds of surviving the transplant to an artificial womb are low, and in her current condition, the admiral might not survive the trauma either." She shook her head, a decisive gesture that allowed Garrus to back down from _alpha prius_ alert. "We're not there yet."

"I don't see any other options," Solus argued. "The allergic reaction is reaching critical levels even with the massive doses of antihistamines we're administering." He paced to the door and then back to the bed. "Given the admiral's orders to preserve the life of her child, the gestation chamber is our last option to avoid terminating the pregnancy."

Fully and rudely awake, Garrus jumped to his feet. "Unacceptable." He stepped between Solus and the bed. "This woman—my _derra_ —faced down reapers to save your life and the life of everyone in this hospital. Even when the war ground her down until she couldn't do anything but sleep and fight, she never quit."

He stepped up to loom over the salarian. "It's time for the _mabul_ galaxy to start living up to her example. Although she'd never say it, I will: it's time for the galaxy to pay her back. It needs to spend the rest of her life paying her back by trying harder … " He drew in a quick breath. "... by not accepting defeat."

Garrus stepped back to take Shepard's hand once again. "It's time for us to catch a _mabul_ break. Use that massive brain, and save both my mate and my child."

Shifting from foot to foot, the salarian wrung his hands. "Hierarch … I …."

Chakwas stepped up and placed a stilling hand on Solus's shoulder. "What we need to do is prevent the baby's waste products from entering Shepard's system." Turning away from the two of them, she paced across the room and back, her steps slow, her head low, brow creased in thought. "Artificial wombs use a series of filters to remove toxins and waste products through the umbilical, taking place of the mother's liver and kidneys."

Squeezing Shepard's shoulder, her voice soft and directed inward, Chakwas continued, "What if, instead of bringing the baby to the artificial womb, we could find a way to bring the artificial womb to the baby?"

Solus clucked softly, his fingers lifting to curl against his mouth. The gesture so resembled his uncle, that a pang of grief stabbed Garrus straight through the keel.

"Problematic," the geneticist said, "but perhaps possible." His omnitool sparked to life, the orange glow a promise, like Trebin as it appeared to banish the night.

Chakwas turned away from Shepard. "What are you thinking? A scale-sized internal dialysis pump, maybe … but attached through the …." She and Narpin wandered over to the bank of computers and monitors, finishing one another's sentences as they brainstormed.

"Geniuses at work." Garrus chuckled as he returned to the chair next to Shepard's bed, playing down the sudden fire of hope the doctors lit behind his keel.

For the first time that day, his mate opened her eyes, her stare fixed on him. Smiling, he wrapped his _derra's_ hand in both of his, his thumb caressing the silken skin at the inside of her wrist. "The way those two are burning brain power, they'll be setting off the smoke alarms."

Shepard gripped him more tightly than he thought possible in her state. But then again, she was Shepard; she defined herself by pushing past the possible. "I'm scared," she said, the emotion raw and bleeding through the words. "If they put me out …." She gulped, the strangled click in her throat painful to hear. "Don't let them take our son away." Eyes closing, she seemed to drift off, an illusion shattered a half-minute later.

"He's everything we fought to have, Garrus." Rolling onto her side, she pulled his hand in against her body, hugging it to her breast. Her eyes opened, already focused on him. "Don't let them take him, please."

A fist drove into his gut, slow and intractable as it pushed up behind his keel and into his throat. "Unless there is no other way to save you, I promise." Bending over her, he pressed his mouth to her brow. "I promise."

His wife shifted under him, curling up, her arms wrapped around her waist. "I've never been this scared, Garrus. Not even over Alchera, my air streaming out into space, the _Normandy_ dying around me." She stilled, even her breathing weakening until he couldn't feel her ribcage expanding against his arm.

He sat back in his chair at her side and gave her the bravest smile he could muster. "Yeah, you're never scared of sacrificing yourself, just the people you love."

"Even when Lenka was taken, I could focus on fixing it, work toward getting her home." Shepard shook her head, her red, watery stare so intense it felt like a drill boring into his head. "I can't do anything about this, Garrus. I've tried everything, and even ELSI is helpless to repair this malfunction."

Garrus nodded and leaned in to touch his brow to hers. "You've never been very good at giving up control and letting someone else solve the problem." He nuzzled her. "I think I can help you with this problem, though. Close your eyes." When her eyelids drifted shut, he closed his as well.

"When I was small and scared, my _mari_ sang to me: always the same song. It always helped calm me down, allowing me to fall asleep despite the imagined horrors lurking in the dark spaces of my bedroom or my fear for my _pari's_ safety." He hummed a few bars, bringing the melody to life through layered subvocals of comfort and hope.

"It's lovely," Shepard whispered, nuzzling into him.

"When I returned to Palaven after the collector base, the Corpalis Syndrome had left her paralyzed and in agony, her once keen intellect reduced to momentary flashes of lucidity amidst dementia." His throat tightened, remembering the skeletal, trembling talons that he'd held in his … the fog dulling the once bright blue of his _mari's_ eyes. "She spent most of her time crying, confused and terrified, so I'd sit with her, hold her hand, and sing to her."

Shepard let out a long breath. "Like she sang to you. That's beautiful, Garrus. I know it meant the world to her."

He nodded and sniffed softly, swallowing the pressure building in his throat. "It meant everything to me as well." Nuzzling her cheek, he whispered, "Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be okay. I promise you that."

Letting out a long sigh, phlegmy with tears, she said, "Don't make promises you can't keep, love."

"Just go to sleep, I've got everything covered." He kissed her brow, nose, and lips, then nestled her back into the curve of his neck. "You're the air I breathe," he said, repeating her words back to her. "The sun in my sky."

"You'll sing to me?" she asked, then kissed just below his jaw.

"Always." He caressed her shoulder. "I'll tell you a secret … I sing to you all the time. It seems to help when you have nightmares." Holding her close despite the chill of the blanket helping keep her fever down, he sang, continuing even after her breathing evened out.

(I promised a chapter for the holidays, and missed by a day. Sorry. But here it is ... we're working on normalizing life. Thanks for still caring about this story enough to comment and message me asking about it. *hugs*)


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